


Nibs Does Fictober

by Nibswrites



Category: Oban Star-Racers
Genre: AUs galore, Fictober 2018, I am so sorry, Multi, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nibswrites/pseuds/Nibswrites
Summary: I'm doing Fictober and the only thing I'm motivated to write about is Oban, so please enjoy 31 days of Oban drabbles. Characters and ships will be listed before each chapter, if you're looking for a specific one!





	1. Day 1- Fall/Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is being weird about not putting all my writing in the tag/I feel bad spamming the tag with all of these, so I figure putting them here is a little more convenient and less annoying for all of you. I will update tags as I go, as well as provide more context before individual chapters.  
> Pairing- Molly/Jordan  
> Day 1 was "fall/autumn," so here's a little snippet from an AU I've been working on for 3 years and is my baby but I'm too afraid to post it/I don't really have anything coherent plotwise, it just exists as a series of one-shots strung together in chronological order. The premise is, after running away from the group home she grew up in, Molly stumbles upon her father, who is managing a band that is in need of someone to front it. There's a lot of angst and guitar playing and also Molly and Jordan slowly realize they love each other but are too stubborn to admit it. Eventually Aikka shows up and then things get even more complicated but they make it all work because this is ultimately a story of everyone sorting through their own garbage and growing together. This is some fluff of Molly and Jordan enjoying a nice fall day in the middle of a tour.

          You catch your reflection in a shop window and huff. “Ugh, I look like a basic bitch.”  
          Jordan scoffs. “You look cozy. And surprisingly not punk.”  
           You pull the beanie Becca knit you down over your ears and snort, “I can be not-punk. I just choose to be punk. I think I pull it off really well.”  
           “You do,” your drummer agrees. “I kind of wish we had fall like this in the south. The leaves are pretty.”  
           It took a lot of arguing with your father to get him to agree to let you have some downtime, and the only reason he gave in was because you were running way ahead of schedule. So you parked the vans in a public parking lot and set off on your separate ways in the small Oregon town you were passing through, with the promise to meet up again for dinner at the little Vietnamese place a block from the lot. There’s a nip in the air you aren’t accustomed to and it makes you shiver in your sweater. Jordan made some wisecrack about how it wasn’t black when you walked out of your hotel room this morning, which earned him two middle fingers and your scorn up until he brought you a crêpe topped with strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast. It’s hard to be mad at someone who brings you a crêpe with strawberries and whipped cream.  
           Jordan nudges you to get your attention and points across the street. “Wanna go get some coffee?” he asks.  
           “You and your coffee,” you tease, with no real bite. “Only if they have a pumpkin spice something. I’m committing to the basic aesthetic for the day.”  
           “And I told you, it’s not basic, it’s cozy,” he argues. “I’d cuddle you like a teddy bear if I knew you wouldn’t punch my lights out for it.”  
           You hum. “I might let you cuddle me, if you ask nicely and buy me a coffee.”  
           “This is extortion. My own girlfriend, making me pay to cuddle with her. After you, miss.” He holds the door to the coffee shop open and bows theatrically.  
           You also bow, and say with as much pompousness as you can muster, “Why thank you, sir _._ ” After a pause you both snicker at each other and finally go inside.  
          Jordan does buy you a pumpkin spice latte, and buys himself something super bitter that makes your eyes water when you take a sip of it, even when he complains, “You have your own!” You sit across from each other at a table next to the windows and watch the trees drop their leaves, covering the sidewalks and roads in a blanket of orange and red, and while your ears and nose still sting from the cold, looking at your boyfriend over a cup of hot coffee makes you feel warm to bursting. And anyone who thinks that makes you basic can eat a knuckle sandwich.


	2. Day 2-"People like you have no imagination"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Don, Rick, and Molly  
> Pairings- Don/Rick is kind of implied but like, not the focus here  
> Have some post-canon Wei/Thunderbolt family shenanigans, featuring some implied Don/Rick. I apologize for the dirty joke.

          “People like you have  _ no  _ imagination.”  
           “I have plenty of imagination!” you splutter. Your daughter gives you a very pointed look, so you turn to Rick and cry, “I do, don’t I?”  
           “Well,” the taller man drawls, and Eva starts to laugh. “You  _ do _ , but not an imagination I would like to discuss in front of your daughter.”  
           Eva screeches in horror, and you cover your face as it starts to burn with shame. “Forget I asked,” you grumble.   
           “Ugh, my brain is melting,” your daughter wails. “I need bleach!”  
           You glare at the assortment of ingredients on the counter and sigh. “Okay, what do you want to make?”  
           “Dumplings,” Rick replies. “Chocolate dumplings.”  
           “Because I want them!” Eva grins.  
           You sigh again, and ask, “And why can’t you just make mochi?”  
           “Because I don’t want mochi! I like dumplings better!”  
           “So you’re just going to make dumplings, but fill them with chocolate?”  
           Eva pokes at a bowl of fruit and says, “We could put some of this in it too, I guess.”  
           Your mouth twists as you think, and finally you walk over to the fridge and pull out a container of raspberries. “These are going to go bad if we don’t eat them, so we might as well.”  
           She pumps her fists in the air and laughs. “Hell yes!”  
           “Language,” you chide. She sticks her tongue out at you in response.   
           It’s messy, and the first few turn out weird. Well, they all turn out weird, if you’re honest. Eva eats one, chewing carefully, and as soon as she swallows she announces, “I thought they’d be different.”  
           “Curiosity satisfied?” Rick asks.   
           She nods. “Yeah, I’m satisfied. Maybe mochi would have been better. Still, it was kinda fun, right?” The question is directed at you, and you study the ball of dough, chocolate, and fruit in your hands.   
           “Yeah, I guess it was,” you agree.  
           Eva grins. “We can work on your sense of adventure next.”


	3. Day 3- “How can I trust you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Para-dice and Molly  
> No pairings!  
> Okay I cheated on this one, this is something I had already written and just tweaked a little to fit the prompt because I am behind and can only write so much. Also, I'm garbage. Take this Skyrim/Dawnguard AU, in which Molly is the daughter of power-hungry vampire lord Canaletto, and Para-dice, the Khajiit treasure hunter, stumbles upon the crypt Molly had been locked away in. (It's vampires which is probably the spookiest thing I'm gonna write about lmao)

          Of all the things you expected to find in a long-forgotten crypt, a two-thousand year old vampire was not on the list.  
           In hindsight, perhaps it should have been.  
           You are a treasure hunter: diving into caves and burial sites was your specialty. You thrived where others perished, choosing to seek out the most dangerous ruins as they often had the most wealth hidden within them. Your ability to blend in with the shadows, move near-silently, and when needed, quickly and quietly take down bandits, cave-squatters, and undead made you very successful. Despite your confidence in your abilities, you were also cautious, calculating. You knew better than to fall for the obvious traps, steering clear of strange magic and meager riches in favor of the greater spoils that waited further in. It was a job that relied on luck, smarts, and skills.  
           So when the strange pillar rose up in the middle of the floor, you should have known better than to go poking around at it. Now you’ve got a hole in your hand, and magical bullshit rising up from the depths, and with nowhere to hide, you’re either in for the find or fight of your life. You quickly down a healing potion, hissing in dismay when the wound on your hand stops bleeding but doesn’t close up completely. Stupid magic bullshit. Your ears flick forward in anticipation as you draw your daggers and prepare yourself for the worst.  
           The stone capsule finally opens, and reveals a young woman. Her skin is pale, standing in stark contrast with the gloom of the crypt and her dark hair. You tilt your head. How can this body be so well preserved? You almost take a step closer, but the woman, with nothing to hold her up, falls forward, landing limply in a pile on the floor. You leap back several feet and land in a crouch, snarling out of instinct.  
           And then you notice the big, golden scroll on her back. Imagine how much  _ that  _ would make you, with the right buyer. You bet those loony mages would pay more than twice your weight in gold for it, especially if you told them about the ruin you found it in. You’re positive they would drool all over themselves with all the history they would find here. And the girl still hasn’t gotten up. Of course not, she’s probably been dead for hundreds of years, at least. She’s not going to stop you from taking the scroll.   
           Mind made up, you creep closer to the body. When it still doesn’t stir, you reach for the item on her back, and just as your claws are about to brush it, she jerks. You scramble backwards and curse loudly, brandishing your weapons again.  
           The woman groans, and draws her arms under her to push herself off the stone floor. She lifts her head, and when she brushes her hair out of her face, you are shocked when her eyes are red.  _ Red.  _ And  _ glowing _ . Those abnormal eyes sweep across the room, and land squarely on you. She notices the daggers in your hands and stiffens.  
           You both study each other for what feels like an eternity. She slowly tries to move into a crouch, but you lift your blades and snarl, flattening your ears against your head. She freezes again.  
           “You know, you aren’t exactly who I was expecting to wake me up,” she says, hesitantly. “Though if I had to guess, I’d say you didn’t expect to find me.”  
           You don’t respond, nor do you lower your guard, and she sighs. “If you’re going to kill me, I’d prefer that you make it quick. Otherwise, put the daggers away and let me heal your hand.”  
           Your eyes flick to the wounded appendage. How did she know? You tighten your grip, even though your hand protests the movement, and take a step away.  
           “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” she begs. “You’re the one who freed me, right?” When you still don’t say anything, she sighs. “You probably don’t even understand me.” She pushes herself up into a seated position, ignoring you as you shift in your defensive stance. She lifts her hands and holds them palms-out towards you. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she says again. “Just please, if you understand me, can you say something?”  
           Deciding to take a chance, you ask, “Who are you?”  
           Her shoulders visibly sag in relief. “Thank the gods, you  _ do  _ understand me. My name is Molly. Who are you?”  
           You shake your daggers at her. “This one is asking the questions. How long have you been here?”  
           Molly frowns. “No. If you get to ask questions, I should be able to as well. I’m not answering any more of yours until you answer mine.”  
           You growl and curse, but finally spit, “Paradice.”  
           “Thank you, Paradice.” Her face softens. “And to answer your question, it depends on what year it is. They sealed me in here in the Second Era.”  
           “It is the Fourth Era now.”  
           You think her face would have gone paler, if it were possible. “Who sent you to find me?” she asks.  
           You shake your head. “No one. This one is treasure hunter. This cave is on no maps, and I assumed there would be countless riches down here.” You pause, then study her. “Perhaps there are. What is in the scroll?”  
           She seems to consider her words carefully. “There is… a prophecy. It involves me. However, if it were to pass, it would be very bad. It was better for me and the scroll to be here. Although, if no one sent you to look for me, it’s possible that no one knows where I am. Perhaps I can leave. Would you be willing to show me the way out of here?”  
           “One more question,” you demand. “How are you still alive after being down here for so long?”  
           Molly smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that.”  
           “Why haven’t you attacked this one?”  
           “That’s more than one question,” she teases, but stops when you glare at her. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want to hurt you. Just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I’m some mindless monster that attacks everyone on sight. You freed me; it would be rather rude if I killed you in return.”  
           “So you haven’t killed this one because it would be rude? How can I trust you?”  
           “I never asked for this,” she snarls. “I’m not about to become some baseless murderer just because of what I am. Now, if you’re not going to help me get out of here, I’ll find the way out myself.”  
           Slowly, you sheathe your weapons, and offer your uninjured hand to her. She studies it warily, so you say, “This one will help you find the exit.” She nods and allows you to help her get to her feet.  
           “May I heal your hand first?” she asks.  
           “Vampires know how to heal?”  
           “I studied restorative magic before… well, before this. I know what I’m doing. Please let me help.”  
           You concede and let her take your other hand. She holds it gently in her own and mutters a spell under her breath, and golden light dances across your skin, closing the wound and leaving a pink scar behind. “I can’t help you with the fur, but I imagine it’ll grow back with time,” she pats your hand before letting it go. “Now, let’s get out of here. I’m sick of caves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I fuckin couldn't find Para-Dice in the character list when I started typing her name in and this is garbage, my cat daughter deserves better.  
> On a more serious note, did you know that someone, or a group of someones, put together a website where you could potentially learn Ta'agra, the language the Khajiit speak? I only wanted to know how their prefixes and naming conventions worked and I got a lot more than I bargained for. Unfortunately none of that appears in this little bit.


	4. Day 4- Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jordan and Molly  
> No pairings!  
> Here's some more post-canon, probably taking place at least a decade after Oban ends. I don't like the ending but for the sake of my sanity I'm only allowing myself to spend so much time on each of these so like. Deal with it.

          It took a lot to get Molly to Oban, and now that she’s here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Well, there’s a lot you _want_ to do, but you don’t want to waste any time, since you know there won’t be enough, there’s never enough--  
           “Why don’t you show me around?” she suggests, seeming to sense that you’re about to self-destruct. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and I’m sure a lot has changed. Plus, you know all of Oban’s secrets now, right?” She winks.  
          “Give me a thousand years, and I might finally be able to say that with a tiny shred of confidence,” you reply, only half joking. Oban is full of many mysteries, after all.  
          So you show her the canyons and the forests, the lakes and mountains. You stop and watch the dregers erect another temple, admiring the way Molly’s eyes sparkle with curiosity and excitement. You take her to the fountain under the main temple, and she confesses that she’s already been down here when she followed Aikka and found him making a deal to take out Sul with Ning, Skun, and Ondai. Finally, you take her back to your rooms.  
          “I like what you’ve done with the place,” she says. “It’s not as… cozy as it was when Satis lived here.”  
          “Well, I am a little bigger than Satis.”  
          Molly walks around the perimeter of the room, studying the portals. The symbols marking which modules they led to have been erased, waiting for the next candidates almost ten-thousand years from now. “Which one was ours?” she whispers.  
          With a snap of your fingers, one of the portals glows blue, and Molly comes to a stop before it. She trails her hands through it and watches the ripples fade. You walk around the table to stand beside her. “Shall we?” You offer her your hand.  
          The corner of her mouth pulls up in a smile, and she takes your hand before yanking you through the portal. You let out a yelp totally unbecoming of the Avatar.  
          “Warn me next time, okay?” you grumble.  
          Molly laughs. “But what’s the point of that?” She turns to study the module, the smile slowly slipping off her face, until she finally whispers, “It’s so empty in here.”  
          “Well, yeah, everyone left.”  
          She frowns. “You’re really all alone.”  
          You look down to where your fingers are still wound together. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Besides, I always have the dregers.”  
          “Do you all gather around and sing together?”  
          “Only on Sundays.”  
          Molly chuckles. “I hope I get to see that before I have to leave.”  
          You wink. “Maybe we can move it up this week, just for you.”  
          The two of you walk up the stairs, past the small room that you used to share. You keep walking until you find yourselves on the ledge that overlooks the surface below, and Molly says, “What happened to that planet seed? Are they actually planet seeds?”  
          “More or less,” you shrug. “It’s kind of complicated. I can explain it to you if you really want, but I’m kind of tired, if I’m honest.”  
          “You did use your powers a lot today. Sorry, I kind of forgot about that.” Molly taps the tips of her fingers together sheepishly.  
          You shake your head and say, “Don’t worry about it. It was worth it.” You lower yourself so that you can sit and swing your feet over the ledge. “Too bad no bug-riding princes will swoop in and whisk you away tonight.”  
          She joins you with a chuckle. “He’s off being a bug-riding king now, he doesn't have time.”  
          “Too bad,” you shrug. “He’ll be a great king, though.”  
          She nods in agreement. You both fall silent as the sun begins to set, turning the sky a brilliant orange. You stay that way until long after the sky is dark and the stars have come out, and Molly finally says, “Is it weird to say that I miss this place?”  
          You pull your lower lip between your teeth as you consider her words. “There’s a certain charm to it, I suppose,” you agree. “There are worse places to spend the next ten-thousand years.”  
          Molly leans against your shoulder and sighs. You spend the rest of the night watching the stars, until nodding off against each other.


	5. Day 5- "Take what you need"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Rick and some OCs of mine  
> Pairings: My OCs :P  
> This prompt was difficult and then inspiration struck when I remembered I created these OCs and a whole sad tragic backstory for Rick, so here it is! Some Rick backstory. For context, Manuela and Guadalupe are married and own a tattoo shop in Albuquerque, and Rick ran away from his home just off the Apache reservation in northern New Mexico at 15 (because I haven't seen enough Native Rick headcanons and that's a crime). They were originally created for the first version of Coping I started writing three years ago before I scrapped it and went with something a little less angsty (yeah, it could have been worse), but I'm hoping to tie them in with the current version because this fandom needs more lesbians and I will lead this charge if I have to. I could have written thousands of words about this but not if I want to keep up with all the prompts, so this is what you get. Maybe one day I'll go back and write more, but that day is not today.

          The first time they meet Rick, he’s just a scrawny, lanky kid with short, choppy hair and fear blazing in his big, green eyes. Lupe spots him when he tries to swipe the pie cooling in the window. She doesn’t say anything, but nods, and he slowly slides it off the sill and disappears down the alley. There’s a crumpled up wad of bills there the next morning.  
           Lupe still doesn’t say anything, but starts leaving food there for the kid, and Manny doesn’t say anything either, but she keeps her eyes and ears peeled for him. They both know the authorities aren’t particularly compassionate when it comes to  homeless kids, usually dragging them back to the places they ran away from in the first place, and Manny and Lupe don’t have much, but they can scrape together enough to help one teenager.  
           Lupe ends up finding him, which Manny supposes is for the best; the kid’s seen her, and knows he can trust her to some extent. Manny watches Lupe walk him through the parlor and nods over the woman she’s tattooing in greeting. His left eye is black and swollen, and his nose is dripping blood, but Lupe waves Manny off, so she lets her go. Lupe can handle herself. That’s why Manny loves her.  
           Going upstairs after closing the shop, Manny finds her wife sitting at their tiny little table in the kitchen and nursing a cup of tea. “Where is he?” she asks.  
           Lupe shrugs. “He’s in the shower. Won’t give me a name yet, but I told him we could look at his nose and make sure it isn’t broken when he’s done, and that he can crash here if he wants to. Probably won’t, but I couldn’t _not_ offer.”  
           He doesn’t stay that night, and Manny and Lupe don’t push it. Lupe does push a bag filled with some fruit and bread into his hands and tells him that their door is always open, and she thinks he wants to say something more but all he manages to get out is a soft _gracias_ before disappearing down the dark street. They watch him go, hoping they haven’t made the wrong choice.  
           The next time they see Rick, a year has passed, and then some. He’s grown a little taller, and his hair is down to his shoulders, and he gives them a nervous grin and asks, “That offer to crash still stand?” Lupe goes all out for dinner, with Manny helping until Lupe shoos her out, saying, “This kitchen ain’t big enough for the two of us!”  
           The kid scarfs down everything they put in front of him, which is good, because Lupe made way more than she and Manny would be able to finish off before it went bad. When he starts to slow down, Manny asks, “You got a name, kid?”  
           He swallows the food in his mouth and replies, “Rick.”  
           “Where you from, Rick?”  
           “North,” he gestures vaguely.  
           Manny raises an eyebrow. “Like, Canada north?”  
           He snorts and says, “Nah, northern New Mexico. Near the Rockies.”  
           “What are you doing down here, then?” Lupe asks softly.  
           Rick drums his fingers on the table and seems to mull over how to respond. Finally, he says, “I just needed to get out, you know?”  
           Manny nods sympathetically. She can understand wanting a new start. Still, it usually helps to have a place to start over. “Well, feel free to stay as long as you like.”  
           He sticks around for a couple of days before packing up his meager belongings. Manny drags him over to the pantry and says, “Take what you need” and walks away to leave him to it, knowing full well he might not take anything but not wanting him to feel pressured either way. Before he can slip out the door, Lupe hands him a piece of paper. “Our phone number and address,” she explains. “In case you ever need anything.”  
           He nods, offering a small smile before vanishing for the third time.  
           The next time they see him is years later. Neither Manny or Lupe have been big into star racing, but they've seen newspaper articles and news segments about the up-and-coming racer under the management of some pretentious prick who managed some hot-shot before her untimely death.  Of course they’ve heard of Maya; every time Lupe saw her picture she'd look Manny dead in the eyes and say, “I love you, but if I ever had the chance to run away and get married to her, I'd do it in a heartbeat.”  
           Manny would always roll her eyes and reply, “If she ever showed up and proposed to you and you _didn't_ say yes, I'd leave you for her.”  
           It's a normal, if not slow day at the parlor. Manny is running her tongue piercing along her teeth and gazing blankly out the front door to the shop when it opens, and a tall, muscular man with long, black hair walks in. He pulls his douchey looking sunglasses off and grins. “That offer to crash still stand?” he asks.  
           Lupe squeals and rushes forward, launching herself into Rick’s arms, and despite her probably weighing as much as, if not more than, he does now, he only staggers a little when he catches her.. “Look at you!” Lupe starts to fawn over him. “Oh, it's been so long, Rick!”  
           Manny shakes her head. “Leave the poor man alone, you old hen.” Lupe sticks her tongue out, but does take a step back, and Rick schools his startled expression back into something more neutral. Manny walks around the table and gives Rick a quick, tight hug. “You should have called,” she admonishes. “We could have made plans.”  
           “That's why I didn't, didn't want you two making a huge fuss,” Rick says. “Besides, I also came here for business.”  
           “Is that so?” you ask. “What kind of business?”  
           “I'm gonna guess you're still doing tats?” He pulls out a sketchbook and hands it off to Manny. She studies the design while Lupe looks on over her shoulder.  
           “What did you have in mind?” Manny asks, barely able to keep her excited grin off her face.  
           Over the next few months, the interlocking red designs start to take shape over his arms and shoulders. He explains the significance of some of them, others “just look cool,” which Manny and Lupe agree with.  
           When payment comes up, Lupe waves Rick off. “You're like family, Ricky, we don't need your money.”  
           “Consider it repayment for helping me, then,” Rick says. “It's the least I can do for you. I don't know where I'd be without you two.”  
           “Fine, but I'm only charging you half of what I normally do,” Manny argues. “Deal?”  
          “Deal,” Rick agrees. But when Lupe checks the tip jar after they close the shop for the night, the other half of the payment and then some is crammed into the little container.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't have any tattoos until I met you, Don." What does that even mean, Rick?


	6. Day 6- Drooling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Aikka, Molly, and Jordan  
> No pairings!  
> This prompt was taken from inktober, so maybe I cheated but like, I immediately got this idea and had to go with it because I love it. More RBAU, this time featuring Molly's dog Shasta, who was created because one day I thought "Molly with a rottweiler would be so badass" and I realized that, as a writer, I could make that happen. So Molly, Jordan, and Aikka went to a shelter to adopt a dog, and despite agreeing on a small dog because Aikka is not a dog person, Molly walked out with a 90 pound dog who decided that she was going to make the one person who didn't like her love her. She's been more successful than Aikka cares to admit. (Of course Molly then goes and rescues a three-legged sphinx cat for Aikka to make it up to him, but that's another story.)

          “Augh, get this slavering beast _off_ of me!”  
           Molly glares daggers at you and says, “That _slavering beast_ is my _dog_ , you ass.”  
           You glance down at the Rottweiler in your lap and groan as yet another thick strand of drool runs from her mouth to your pants. “I just put these on,” you whine. “And now I'm going to have to change.”  
           “Just push her off, if it bothers you so much,” Jordan suggests. “Or tell her to move. Shasta is a good girl, she listens. Isn't that right, Shasta?” His voice raises in pitch as he addresses the dog. Shasta’s stump of a tail starts to wag so aggressively that her entire rump shakes, and her ears perk up but she doesn't lift her head. She does roll over to expose her middle.  
           “Aw, she wants belly rubs!” Jordan coos. “She says, ‘Pet me, Aikka, pet me!’”  
           You roll your eyes. “She's disgusting and smelly, I am _not_ going to pet her.” But your fingers trail over her chest, and she kicks one massive paw up and clips you in the jaw with it. You grunt, and bring both hands down on her ribs with a hollow _thud_ , then rub your hands over her so quickly that fur starts to float in the air around you. Shasta pants, blowing her stinky dog-breath at you, and you curl your lip in disgust even as you bend over and bury your face in her short, bristly fur. “You smell terrible and you're a pain in the ass, you're lucky we love you.”  
           Shasta scrambles into a seated position and licks a large, wet stripe up your cheek, knocking your glasses off in the process. You laugh and make a kissy face at her, and she places smaller kisses on your mouth and nose.  
           “‘I'm Aikka, and I think dogs are gross even though I let them lick my face,’” Molly mocks you.  
           You scratch behind Shasta’s ears and blow a puff of air at her. She huffs back and headbutts you. “I tolerate her. Cats are infinitely better.”  
          “Uh-huh, sure they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine actually drew some RBAU Molly and Aikka with their respective pets and if said friend is okay with it I may come back and put the Molly and Shasta one up, or at least put them on my tumblr because even tho they drew them 2 years ago I am in love.  
> EDIT (10/13/18): I POSTED THE DRAWINGS ON MY TUMBLR! I am too scared to put them in the fandom tag, but if you would like to gaze upon the beauty that is my friend's interpetation of rbau Molly, Aikka, and their pets, please click [here!](http://nightbloggingbyday.tumblr.com/post/179025629306/gasp-i-just-realized-that-i-didnt-put-these-with)


	7. Day 7- Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, Jordan, and Aikka  
> Pairings: Molly/Jordan/Aikka   
> More RBAU. Molly and Jordan find out that Aikka has never been to a haunted house.  
> Also, in case you haven't caught on yet, Aikka is human in this AU (all the alien competitors are) and he's Bangladeshi because 1) I'm tired of people making human versions of not-human characters white and 2) elements from his theme made me think of South Asian music. He still has the same hair and eye color tho. Also he's gay! And my beautiful son, for whom I would take a bullet, if he were real.

          “Ooh, spooky,” Jordan whispers in your ear.  
           You swat at him. “Jordan, knock it off.”  
           Aikka shakes his head and sighs. “I hope this is worth it. I can't feel my butt anymore.”  
           Jordan waggles his ridiculously thick eyebrows and says, “I can keep it warm for you, babe.”  
           “Ugh, you two are gross.”  
           You're waiting in line for the haunted mansion that sets up every year in some historic building you can’t be assed to learn the history of. Aikka told you he’d never been to a haunted house, so of course you had to remedy that. A chill has already set in, and Aikka has been sure to complain to all of you about how cold it is here, compared to Bangladesh. You tell him to go back to Bangladesh then, if it bothers him so much. He pouts at you until he can’t keep quiet any longer.  
           “You know what’s gross, Molly?” Jordan asks, leaning down so his chin rests on your shoulder and blows in you ear. You knock your head against him and huff, and he continues, “Your blatant jealousy of what Aikka and I have. Our love is so pure that you gaze upon it and ask yourself, “Why can’t Jordan offer to keep my butt warm?’”  
           “I look at you and ask myself why the hell I’m dating such a goober, actually, but please continue.”  
           Whatever Jordan is about to say is interrupted by the very tired looking teenager asking you how many tickets you want, and then you’re shuffled up to wait in the line to actually get into the house. Jordan resumes his position and asks, “So where was I?”  
           You give him your sweetest smile and say, “You were gonna tell me how much you love me, I’m pretty sure.”  
           Aikka snorts, and Jordan hums. “No, I don’t think that was it. Maybe I was going to say that this would be a lot more pleasant if you were just a few inches taller, so I didn’t have to bend nearly double.”  
           “Well gee, I wasn’t made to be a chin rest, so maybe that’s alright,” you shoot back.  
           He laughs and finally straightens up. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. You might be too small for a chin rest, but you’re perfect for other stuff. Like hiding behind me when the totally not-scary people in costumes jump out at us in this haunted mansion.” He flexes for good measure.  
           Aikka cackles. “I bet you pee yourself.”  
           “I bet you cry.”  
           “Winner buys the loser hot chocolate when this is done?” Jordan asks.  
          “Oh hell yes,” Aikka puts his hand out and they shake on it while you sigh.

* * *

          “Well that wasn’t so bad,” Jordan announces once you step back outside.  
          “You were screaming, like, the whole time,” you accuse.  
          Jordan sniffs. “I was just trying to make the actors feel like they were doing a great job, that’s all. Like a, ‘Way to go, guys!’ without actually saying that, because it doesn’t feel right to do so in a haunted house. It kills the vibe, you know?”  
          “I thought you were actually gonna punch that guy,” Aikka muses.  
          It’s your turn to get defensive. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it when people get into my space. At least I didn’t swear in front of any children.”  
          He waves his hand dismissively and says, “It was all in Bengali, it’s fine.”  
          Jordan wraps his arms around the two of you and grins. “Okay, so we never have to do that again, let’s go home and make some dumplings and drink some hot chocolate and watch a cute movie.”  
          “I want to watch a scary American movie,” Aikka states. “Something that will keep me up all night with all the lights on.”  
          Jordan smile gets even larger, and in a super cheery voice, he says, “Nope!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the most serious writer.  
> On a more serious note, I'm all caught up from days 1-11, so from here on out, I think I'm gonna post new ones every 7 days (so next update will be on Oct. 14 and contain days 8-14), but I will post daily on my writing blog (nibswrites.tumblr.com) and my main blog (nightbloggingbyday.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying these as much as I am enjoying writing them!


	8. Day 8- Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, Jordan, Aikka, and my Wilde fam OCs  
> Pairings: Molly/Jordan/Aikka  
> This is where I started uploading things on Tumblr, so if you're reading through this and thinking, gee, this looks familiar, that's probably why! Anyway, this is more rock band au, with Wilde family and pumpkin chuckin. This one-shot was born out of impatience and love: I love the Wilde family and I am so close to introducing them in Coping but it's still a couple updates away, and I am tired of waiting! Also, Wilde family is a lot sadder post-Oban. But they're all together and happy in this au, which is why I love this au so much.

          “Okay, ready?” Lani calls from behind the cannon.  
           “This is such a horrendously terrible idea,” Aikka mutters. “This is what you Americans do for fun?”   
           Becca lets out a whoop and yells, “Let ‘er rip, honey!”   
           Lani pulls on the lever, and with a  _ whoosh _ , the air cannon launches the pumpkin. You all squint your eyes to try to find it, but Jordan’s mom finds it first. “There it goes!” she cries.   
           “My turn!” Jordan scrambles over to the cannon and shoves his sister out of the way. “I'm gonna launch mine further than yours!”   
           “Yours is gonna blow up in the cannon again like it did last year,” Lani taunts.  
           “You're gonna eat those words, and then I'm gonna make you eat pumpkin gunk.”   
           “Ew, nasty! Not if I make you eat it first!”  
           “Will you two quit your bickerin’ already?” Charles chides. “At this rate there's gonna be snow on the ground before y'all even get the dang thing loaded.”   
           “Sorry, Dad,” is the sullen response. Jordan perks up almost immediately and looks over at Aikka. “Wanna launch a pumpkin with me?”   
           Aikka shuffles over to the cannon and examines it skeptically. “Where did you even get this thing?”   
           “Uncle Chester made it,” Jordan replies, as he picks up a pumpkin and drops it in Aikka’s arms. Aikka only staggers a little under its weight, and you snicker.   
           “Somebody skipped arm day,” you tease.   
           “Oh, I'd like to see you have a pumpkin tossed at you,” Aikka grumbles.   
           Jordan helps Aikka load the fruit into the cannon and closes the hatch. “We gotta wait for the pressure to build before we can launch it,” he explains. “Lani painted her’s so we can tell whose is whose when we go look.”   
           “We used to go out right after launching it, but we had too many close calls for people almost getting brained by a pumpkin.” Lani’s grin says she was certainly almost “brained by a pumpkin,” but she has no regrets to speak of.   
           As soon as Aikka’s pulled the lever, Jordan and Lani are tripping over themselves as they bolt across the fallow field. Becca shakes her head as she watches them go before turning to you and Aikka and asking, “Wanna ride in the truck?”   
           So you jump up in the bed of Charles’ truck while Becca and Charles argue over who is going to drive. “It's my truck, honey,” Jordan’s dad says. “Do you even know how to drive it?”   
           “Charles, you've been in that wheelchair for almost twenty years, I think I've figured out how to drive a damn truck with my hands.”   
           “Oh really? Well, why don't you go and prove it?”   
           And that's how you end up hurtling across the field with Becca cackling through the open windows and Charles clinging white-knuckled to the “oh, shit” bar. You and Aikka hold each other and laugh in a combination of thrill and fear, and over the wind whipping in your ears Aikka yells, “How is Jordan not dead?”   
           “Dumb luck and having a mom that’s a nurse,” you shout back.  
           When you catch up to the siblings, Jordan has Lani in a headlock and is trying to shove a piece of pumpkin rind in her face. “I'm gonna guess he won,” you say.  
           Aikka only shakes his head and sighs. “I can't believe we're dating him.”   
           “It's his charm, or something.” You shrug and leap out of the bed.   
           “Jordan, quit shoving pumpkin in your sister’s face,” Becca scolds. “How old are you, 4?”  
           “Aren't you like, 25 now? You're old!” Lani cackles, and then yelps as her brother takes advantage of her open mouth to shove pumpkin in it. She tucks her foot behind his ankle and pulls forward, and Jordan loses his balance and falls back on his ass, bringing Lani down with him. They both roll around and wrestle each other on the ground.   
           “He like this with you?” Charles asks, leaning out of the truck.   
           “Nope,” you reply. “And thank god. Our landlord would hate him for being so loud.”   
           “Glad to see he's grown up a little, then.”   
           You let the two wear each other out before loading back up in the truck to drive to the house. The remains of their projectiles sit in a plastic bag in the corner of the bed so you can bake the seeds, though Lani and Jordan both appear to be wearing their fair share of them as well. “Why would you roll in it?” Aikka complains as he picks gunk out of Jordan’s hair. “Now you stink like pumpkin.”   
           Jordan gives him finger guns and a wink. “Because I really wanted to be your pumpkin, pumpkin.”  
           Aikka blinks at him before replying, deadpan, “It's over. I'm going back to Bangladesh.” The rest of the drive, Jordan gives him his best puppy dog eyes until Aikka sighs and plants a kiss on a gunk-free part of his forehead. You very politely decline to be a part of this until after Jordan has cleaned up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that it may have been a little confusing, so if you're trying to figure out who everyone is, or are curious about some details about them, here you go!  
> Becca Wilde is the daughter of William Wilde (yeah that William Wilde). She's Native Hawaiian and works as a nurse. She and Charles met in Hawai'i when he was stationed out there and moved to Texas after getting married when Charles was relocated.  
> Charles Wilde is a character I created specifically in this AU, since I headcanon Jordan coming from a single-parent household in canon. Charles took his wife's last name when they got married because of a lot of complicated stuff between himself and his family. I could write an entire offshoot fic about Becca and Charles but I won't (for now). He's a war veteran who survived combat, only to lose the use of his legs in an accident involving a ladder, but he's just grateful to be livin' on God's green earth. He's a Texan gentleman, through and through.  
> Lani is Jordan's younger, but not little, sister, a fact that she is constantly reminding him about. She passed him up height-wise in adolescence. She's 4 years younger than Jordan and an artist. They have a pretty good relationship, despite constantly picking on each other (they're totally those siblings that will fight anyone who talks shit about their sibling because "Only I can say that about them!").  
> Anyway, I love these characters a lot and have plans to do more with them in the future, so if that's something you're interested in, you have that to look forward to. Thanks for reading!


	9. Day 9- "You shouldn't have come here"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jordan and Molly  
> No pairings  
> I'll be honest and say that I'm terrified for the sequel thing we've been promised for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I went and came up with some whole plot that I'm hoping for and I'm sure I won't be anywhere close to the actual plot. But I guess that's what fanfiction is for, right? Anyway, potential sequel stuff, coming up!

          While “a human, a Nourasian, a Phils, a Crog, and a Byrusian arrive on Oban” sounds like the set up to a terrible joke, it is anything but. The five of you cram into Jordan’s living quarters after narrowly arriving in time to warn the young Avatar of the coming danger, which he informs you he already knew about. You should have figured he’d find out somehow; a plot to gain the Avatar’s powers through force would probably catch his attention.   
           “You shouldn’t have come here,” Jordan states. He’s standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out across the dark sky. They’re out there somewhere, waiting to catch Jordan off-guard, but currently have no way to reach the floating temple. It’ll buy you some time.  
           “We were just trying to help,” you grumble. “It’s the least I could do, after leaving you here.”  
           Jordan closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “You didn’t leave me here, Molly. I chose this, remember? And now I’m going to have to protect all of you  _ and  _ Oban.”  
           “We can look after ourselves,” you protest. Jordan raises his eyebrows at you, so you huff and amend, “They can take care of themselves, and  _ I  _ can go hide somewhere like I did when we fought Canaletto, because that worked out  _ super  _ well for all involved.”  
           “Molly.”  
           “Well I’m just saying. God, you’re worse than my dad. I  _ can  _ take care of myself, and I am so sick and tired of all the men in my life thinking that I’m some damsel in distress who can’t even breathe without something terrible happening.”  
           “Molly, please.”  
           “No,  _ you  _ please!” You stomp your foot on the ground and glare at him. “I’m not done!”  
           Jordan holds out a hand to you. You roll your eyes but take it, and he squeezes your fingers and says, “You shouldn’t have come here, but I’m glad you did. It’s good to see you again, partner.”   
           You let out the breath you were holding, and most of your anger goes with it. “Come here, you,” you grumble, and pull him forward into a hug. “We came to help, and that’s what we’re going to do.”  
           “And the part of me that isn’t panicking about trying to keep you all safe is grateful.” After a pause, he asks, “Did you really have to bring a Crog here?”  
           You laugh. “It’s a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These all look so much longer on mobile and then I upload them on desktop where the screen is really wide and i'm like. Oh. I didn't write a whole lot, did I?  
> Also if Jordan is not in the sequel for more than five minutes I will learn how to draw and animate just to make my own sequel. You already aren't giving me Rick, don't fridge Jordan, too.


	10. Day 10- "You think this troubles me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, Aikka, Rush, Spirit, and that Crog from the promotional art for the sequel thing  
> No pairings  
> This prompt was difficult! Until I remembered that I wrote about potential sequel stuff the day before, and thought, to hell with it, let's just keep it going. This would technically fall before the events of the last prompt, chronologically. Please enjoy Molly trying to keep the peace between a Crog and two people who's lives have been affected by Imperial occupation of their planets.

          The reasonable part of you knew that having a Crog along on your journey to the center of the galaxy would cause tensions to run high. The naive part of you hoped everyone could put aside any past quarrels and focus on your shared objective. Of course, the naive part of you was so very, very wrong.  
           In the heat of the moment there was very little thought given to stealing the dropship, but now that the adrenaline has started to wear off, you're starting to see that maybe you should have put a little more thought into this.  
           Rush is the first to say anything. You and Aikka are looking over a map of the galaxy and trying to figure out the best route to take when you hear the shouting, and then you're both bolting to the cockpit, where Rush has the Crog pinned up against the controls and is trying to get his hands around the Crog’s throat. You scramble over to them and jump up to grab onto Rush’s arm. “Stop it!” you cry. “Let him go, Rush!”   
           Granted, your feet are dangling at least a foot from the ground, and while you've definitely gained some muscle from lugging around star racer parts over the past few years, you have to admit that there is relatively very little you can do to stop the normally gentle giant from inflicting lasting damage on the Crog. You look over to Aikka and Spirit and yell, “Do something!”   
           Aikka hesitates, so you grunt in frustration and glare at the Phils. Spirit finally approaches, as leisurely as they please, and as soon as they are standing directly behind Rush, taps the huge alien on the shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it does nothing. Spirit looks at you and shrugs, as if to say  __ I've done all I can do.  
           “Do I have to do everything myself?” you snap, finally dropping down from Rush’s arm and squeezing between him and the Crog. “Knock it off!” You beat your small fists on Rush’s stomach. “He helped us! Let him go, Rush, or I'll, I’ll,” you flounder for an adequate threat before finishing, “I'll take out your kneecaps!”   
           Rush finally seems to come to his senses, and with a huge hand gathers you up and drops you to the side. “Stay away from him, Molly!” he bellows. “That  __ thing  is a monster!”   
           The Crog takes a few gasping breaths and tries to collect himself, and you take advantage of the silence to argue with Rush. “He helped us steal this ship! Stop trying to kill him!”   
           “But Molly!” Rush gawks at you, and you shake your head.   
           “This isn't going to work if we're trying to kill each other! I know you don't like Crogs. You too, Aikka.” The Prince looks a little ashamed but says nothing, so you continue, “And I'm not saying that you have to forget all of that because what they did to your planets and your people was wrong. But we aren’t going to reach Oban if we don't all work together, okay?”   
           Aikka is the first to break the long silence that stretches on. “I don't like it,” he sighs. “But you're probably right.”   
           Spirit nods, and Rush grumbles his agreement. You huff. “Okay, good. No more fighting, got it?” You glare at all of them, including the Crog.   
           “But I don't like the idea of him being in charge of navigating the ship,” Rush says. “How do we know this isn't a trap?”   
           “Do you know how to pilot this ship?” the Crog finally speaks. “I am the only one who knows how the controls work.”   
           “That doesn't make me feel reassured,” Aikka mutters.   
           “What if…” your voice trails off as you think. “What if we all plot a course together, so everyone is on the same page, and then we can all take turns sitting up here and making sure we're still on the right course?  
           “I'm not sure if I would be able to tell the difference, honestly,” Aikka confesses. “Believe it or not, after years of Crog occupation, I’m still not familiar with their technology.”   
           Rush crosses his arms and scowls. “And I wouldn't want to sit up here with him, anyway.”   
           “Fine! I'll sit up here!” you snap. “If you're going to all be babies about it!”   
           Rush and Aikka both splutter at that, until Spirit places their hands on their shoulders and shakes their head. They must be saying something to the two, because Aikka takes a deep breath and nods. “You're right, we’re all very… high strung right now. Perhaps some time to reflect would be beneficial.”   
           The three exit the room, leaving you alone with the Crog. After the door seals shut you release the breath you were holding. “I'm sorry about them,” you mutter.   
           The Crog snorts and returns to the pilot’s seat. “You think this troubles me?” he asks. “Their lack of trust is justified. Were our places switched, I am nearly positive I would feel the same as them. But that is redundant. We have a mission to carry out, and I will see it through, regardless of what your friends think.”   
           You stand beside him and stare out at the stars whizzing past. “You're not upset?” you ask.  
           “My emotional state is irrelevant. We must focus on the task at hand.”   
           “Uh-huh,” you grunt, and rest your elbow on the arm rest. It's a very tall chair, so it's a great height for you to do so. “You're not off the hook, either. No antagonizing anyone, okay? And if you do try to pull anything on us, I’ll find a way to make the rest of your life really miserable.”   
           The Crog makes a sound that could be a laugh and asks, “What could a tiny human possibly do?”   
           “You'd be surprised what I can do when I really put my mind to it.”  
           “I suppose you are correct. If I am not mistaken, you are indirectly responsible for the death of Toros and Kross.”   
           You frown. “I don't want to think about that,” you say. “But, since we are all going to be stuck together for a while, we should probably try to get to know each other. What’s your name?”  
           “I have no name.”  
           “I don't believe that. They must have called you something.”   
           There's a pause, and you wonder if the Crog is just going to ignore you until he says, “When I aided you, I failed in my mission and betrayed my people. Failure is cause for death in the Imperium, and traitors are struck from the records. Thus, I have forfeited my life and my name.”   
           You mull over his words, and ask, “So you don't want to use the name you were given?”  
           “I have lost the right to do so.”   
           “Hm.” You chew on your lip. “Well, what if you came up with a new name?”  
           He glares at you. “What if I do not desire a new name?”  
           You roll your eyes. “Well, we can't just say, ‘hey Crog!’ every time we need your attention,” you explain. “I guess we could, but what if there’s more than one Crog? Plus, it just seems kind of rude.”   
           “Rude,” he repeats.   
           “Yeah, rude. So, if you don't want to come up with a new name, what if we give you one?” You idly run your fingers along the edge of a button. “Something really cool sounding. Or something ironic, if you'd rather, like Tiny.”   
           “You are not calling me Tiny.”  
           You chuckle. “Yeah, that's maybe a little too much. But I'll think of something. I'm sure Aikka and Rush would have a lot of ideas, but none of them would probably be very nice. So I'll come up with one.”   
           He sighs heavily. “If this is my punishment for betraying my people, so be it.”   
           “You can mope later. For now, why don't you show me how this thing works?”  
           “Fine,” he grunts. “I suppose we will start with the basics.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw the teaser art for the sequel several days after I wrote this and realized that the Crog is. Significantly taller than Rush, who would probably need a step stool to be able to even attempt strangling him. Also, you could probably fit 4 Mollys into the space that Crog occupies. She is Bitty and he is Big. But if anyone was gonna try to befriend a Crog, it would probably be her.


	11. Day 11- "Is that blood on your shirt?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Jordan and Molly  
> No pairings (though maybe some Jordan/Molly if you read into it)  
> The full prompt was “Is that blood on your shirt?” they shrieked. “No,” xe laughed before shrugging, “Okay…Maybe?” So I altered it a little. Have some more of my Skyrim/Dawnguard au that I first wrote about for day 3. It is definitely one of the more self-indulgent aus I've created. As the kids used to say, "yolo."

          Molly creeps back to the camp after you’ve taken up your post. She nods as a greeting before settling down beside you and looking out at the stars. You sit and enjoy each other’s company until a tangy scent catches your attention, and you study her.  
           “Is that blood on your shirt?” you ask.  
           “No,” she replies quickly, then looks down at her tunic. “Oh, yeah, maybe.” She chuckles and gives you a smile that would be innocent if it wasn’t accompanied by the moonlight glinting menacingly off her fangs. “You should have seen the other guy.”  
           “You were hunting  _ people _ ?” you hiss. You know from experience that Para-Dice gets crankier than normal if her sleep is disturbed.   
           Molly rolls her eyes. “No, Jordan, I’m kidding. It was a sabre cat.”  
           The surge of relief you feel is quickly replaced by concern, and you shake your head and mutter, “I’ll never understand how you do it.”  
           “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
           “Their teeth are as big as one of your arms, Molly.” You hold up your hands in an approximation of the length of a sabre cat tooth for emphasis. “And they're absolutely massive. And you’re trying to tell me that you took one down single handedly?”  
           Molly holds up her own hands and says, “Well, I do have two hands. So it wasn’t really  _ single  _ handedly.”  
           You cackle, and then clap your hands over your mouth and glance back at the camp. You don’t see or hear anything, so hopefully that means you didn’t wake anyone up. “You know what I mean,” you say, and shove her gently for good measure.   
           “I also have magic,” she replies. She waggles her fingers. “Last I checked, sabre cat teeth can’t stop giant shards of ice. Anyway, I should go change my shirt before it gets cakey.”  
           “Sure you don’t want to lick it off first?”   
           She stands up and walks back to her tent, but smacks the back of your head first. “You lick it off, wolf.”  
           You snicker and let her go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I'm just gonna explain this one a little more, if you really want some more background behind this, keep reading. If you don't care, skip ahead to the next prompt. Or don't. It's your life, dude.  
> If you don't know anything about the Dawnguard expansion for skyrim, the basic premise is that your character finds this mysterious woman sealed away in a tomb with an ancient prophecy about how vampires will block out the sun so they can walk around unaffected all the time and, idk, take over the world I guess? So you either become a fancy vampire lord, or you don't, but either way you and vampire lady (her name is Serana) have to stop her power-hungry father from enacting this prophecy. So, in my au, Para-dice is not the Dragonborn, though that would be pretty cool, and full of amusing shenanigans. But she does find Molly, the young vampire, who was sealed away by Satis, another vampire, when he found out that Molly's "father," Canaletto, was going to use her as part of the prophecy. Together with Para-dice, Jordan (a werewolf), and Aikka (who is a wood elf in this AU), Molly sets out to find a way to stop her father before he can destroy the world as they know it. Along the way, Molly also discovers who she really is, which is not the daughter of some crazy vampire, but that's #spoilers.


	12. Day 12- "Who could have done this?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Don, Molly, Jordan, and Aikka  
> Pairings: Molly/Jordan/Aikka I guess?  
> Bringing back my rock band au, because I am taking every opportunity to share this with all of you. It is my favorite au. I would even go so far as to say something completely controversial, which would be that I love it more than canon. The only thing that would make it better is if Maya was still alive. But she's dead in this one, too.

          Don stomps into the lounge with a half-empty bag of candy held up high over his head. “Who is responsible for this?” he demands, brandishing the bag at the three of you.  
          You look up from your guitar and shrug. “Wasn’t me.”  
          “You always say that,” Jordan grumbles. “Even when it is you.”  
           “I know my rights.”  
           Aikka snickers from where he’s curled up under Jordan’s arm.  
           “What’s wrong with the candy, Mr. Wei?” Jordan asks. “Where’d you find it?”  
           “It was in the drum,” Don says, fixing Jordan with a death glare. Jordan shrinks back into the couch. “So I’ll ask again, who could have done this?”  
           You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. What were you doing looking in the drum anyway?”  
           “It is blatant disrespect of the instrument, Molly, and I will not stand for it!”  
           “It’s Jordan’s drum!”  
           Don splutters. “So?” he finally snaps.  
           “You just wanted to pick a fight, didn’t you?” you accuse.  
           “No more food in instruments, is that clear?”  
           You all mumble the affirmative, and as soon as Don marches out of the lounge, Aikka looks at Jordan and asks, “Did you put the candy in the drum?”  
           Jordan shakes his head. He still looks a little shell shocked when he says, “No, I have no idea how it got there.”  
           You shrug. “I put it there. I like to hide food around the studio for when I get hungry. Figured no one would find it in the bass drum.”  
           “So it _was_ you!”  
           “So what?” you ask. “There’s more under your butt. If you stop whining about it, you can have some.”  
           Jordan leaps off the couch and nearly tosses Aikka aside in his hurry to rip off the couch cushion. He snatches up the bag of candy and pulls out a handful. “I’m still mad at you,” he says, glaring at you as he tears the wrapper off the rice candy. “But I also love this candy, and that’s winning out over my desire to stay mad.”  
          “Whatever you say, Jordan.” You strum through the chord progression of some 80s song you’ve had stuck in your head, because it’s stuck in your head but also because you know in a couple of minutes Jordan will start singing it and then get angry because he doesn’t know why it’s stuck in his head. You’ll know, of course. But you won’t tell him. A girl has to keep some secrets, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly is one of those people who hoards things and hides them so that other people can't find them. One day, someone will open a closet and find a pile of sweaters and blankets with various food wrappers strewn about it, and be like. So that's where my sweater went. Of course, confronting Molly about it will only get them a blank stare. She has no idea what they're talking about. What are they accusing her of? She doesn't like their tone. What I'm getting at is that Molly is a small, burrowing creature that makes nests of things she finds.


	13. Day 13- "Try harder, next time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly and Para-dice  
> No pairings  
> Have I mentioned that I love Para-dice? Because I do. This one is also taken from something I'd written before, but this is heavily edited. Molly and Para-dice could have so much potential to be a racing powerhouse team, but I'm sure it's too much to ask that they bring back Para-dice. Anyway, have some post-canon.

          You sigh with relief when you cross the finish line before the white-and-green star-racer, but wince when its pilot yowls over the comm system.  
           You set your racer down in the pit and leap out. Para-dice rushes over you, landing almost on top of your racer, and hers has barely touched the ground when she’s jumping out of it and bounding towards you. “I don’t  _ understand! _ ” she snarls. “I’m the  _ best  _ on my planet! You got lucky last time, how did you win again?” She stomps over until she’s on top of you, her large, furry head close to your face.  
           “Guess you’ll just have to try harder, next time,” you say with a shrug. “But that was a great race, so good job.”  
           She frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to insult me?” she demands.  
           “It’s a compliment. On Earth, we use them to express our admiration.”  
           “Admiration?” The frown deepens, and she huffs, “You are trying to make fun of me!”  
           You shake your head. “I’m really not. But, if I’ve insulted your pride so thoroughly, I could make it up to you.”  
           And that’s how you find yourself in the little arcade on the boardwalk you passed before the race. To say the occupants look surprised that a Wetan is racing between the games is an understatement, but they don’t give you any trouble as you buy a bag of tokens for the two of you to share. “What do you think of human entertainment?” you ask as you approach her.   
           Para-dice tears her attention away from the demo of some zombie shooting game and says, “I am going to win every one of your Earth games.”  
           You work your way slowly to every game. She wins some, you win some, but she’s forgotten to be mad at you about losing the race earlier, so  you don’t mind too much. You’re about to challenge her to a round of Skee-ball when she stops. “What is  _ that _ ?” she demands.  
           You follow her gaze. “The dancing game? You have to step on the arrows as they come up on the screen.”  
           She grabs your wrist and pulls you along after her in her mad-dash to the game. She leaps up on the platform and starts jumping up and down. “Put in the coins! Now, now, now!”  
           “Ugh, okay, fine,” you grumble. “I don’t know why you’re so excited about this game, it’s not  _ that  _ great.”  
           “Not that great?” She looks like you just insulted her mother. “Molly, this is exactly like the mechanism I use to pilot my ship. This is the most superior example of human technology I have seen yet, and I am going to kick your butt at it!”  
           You roll your eyes as you insert the coins into the machine. “No wonder you keep losing,” you mutter under your breath.   
           You let her pick a song, because you recognize the song titles and artists about as much as she does, so you’re both on pretty equal ground. When it comes time to select the difficulty, Para-dice chooses the highest one.   
           “Are you sure about that?” you ask.   
           She cackles. “What’s wrong, Molly,  _ scared _ ?”   
           Your competitive streak flares, and you glare at her. “Hell no. Bring it on, Para-Dice.”  
           She thrashes you. You didn’t stand a chance, and despite all the endurance training Rick has you doing, you have to lean back against the bar behind you as you struggle to catch your breath after one round.   
           “Again!” she demands.   
           “Do single-player, then, I think my legs are about to fall off.”  
           Para-dice snickers. “Guess you’ll just have to try harder, Molly.”  
           “Yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve got dance games and I’ve got racing. I can live with not being the best at everything.”  
           “Stop whining and put another coin in, I am going to beat you again and again until I feel better about losing the race to you today.”  
           You groan, but do as she says. Maybe if your legs  _ do  _ fall off, Rick will go easy on you tomorrow. 


	14. Day 14- Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Rick and Molly  
> Pairings: NONE. RICK IS 15 YEARS OLDER THAN MOLLY. IF YOU SHIP THEM PLS DON'T INTERACT WITH ME, THANKS!  
> Week 2 is officially done! This will be the last prompt I upload until Oct. 21. Thank you for reading so far, and I hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have!  
> I like to think that Rick became a racing coach after returning to Earth, and he travels around a lot to go out to his clients. Sometimes Molly comes with, because 1) Rick technically shouldn't be driving with his epilepsy and 2) Molly spent a significant amount of her childhood within walls, she wants to get out and see the world and also get away from her father, who she loves but like. He's Don. Everyone needs to get away from Don for a bit. Especially Don himself.

          “I can’t believe you listen to this.”  
           “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rick snaps.  
           “I mean, the 1980s were 100 years ago, Rick, nobody listens to this stuff anymore,” you glance in the rearview mirror as you throw your turn signal on and take the exit. “No one cares about Journey or Stevie Nicks or ACDC anymore.”  
           “First of all, I listen to this stuff. Second of all,” he holds up two fingers and points them at you aggressively, “If you blaspheme about Stevie in my presence again I will throw you out of my truck.”  
           “I’m driving your truck, you ass!” you grumble.  
           “Yeah, because legally, I’m not supposed to. That doesn’t mean anything, and as long as nobody pulls me over, no one’s gonna know. Besides, I know you listen to early 2000s emo music, but I wasn’t gonna say anything because that’s none of my damn business.”  
           You roll your eyes. “I was an angsty kid, Rick, and I think I had every reason to be. Give me a break.”  
           “Only if you apologize to Stevie.”  
           “She died before you were even born!” you cry.  
           “Exactly, so say you’re sorry before her spirit makes us crash,” he threatens.  
           You throw one hand up and groan, “Fine! I’m sorry, Stevie Nicks, for saying nobody cares about you anymore, because apparently Rick cares about you enough for the half the galaxy. Are you happy, Rick?”  
           “Watch the speed limit, Mouse.”  
           “If we get pulled over, I’m telling the cop it’s because you listen to shit music.”  
           He shakes his head and mutters about “kids these days” and “no respect for the classics.”  
           Road trips with Rick really are your favorite, especially when you’re driving his truck. Despite the negative environmental impact of fossil fuels and the moral dilemma you experience every time you hop into the cab, you have to agree that there’s something so satisfying about the feeling of rubber tires on asphalt and the roar of the combustion engine. Plus, you get to get away from your father for a little bit and see more of the country while spending quality time with Rick. You’ve been as far north as Vancouver and as far east as Arkansas, and almost everywhere else in between. It doesn’t compare to being in the pilot’s seat of a star-racer, but the open road calls to you, and you wonder if all Weis have a little bit of wanderlust in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! Do you remember back on day 6 (Drooling) when I said that I might upload my friend's art? WELL GUESS WHAT! I DID! Kind of! It's not in the fic itself, but it is on my personal Tumblr. The link is in the end note for chapter 6, if you would like to see one of my friend's interpretation of rbau Molly, Aikka, and their pets. I'd link it here, but I'm lazy lol. Please go admire Lark's art! They're not super active on Tumblr anymore, but I love their work.


	15. Day 15- "I thought you had forgotten"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Prince Aikka and Queen Nori  
> No pairings  
> I don't write about Aikka enough so please accept this offering. Takes place after the race, when he returns to Nourasia.

          The Avatar’s vessel brings you directly to Dol, much to your parents surprise. However, your appearance isn’t nearly as shocking as the Crog warships en route to your planet being disabled just outside of Nourasia’s atmosphere. The forces on the ground were livid, but a spy reported that the Crogs didn’t dare to try anything else at the moment since the energy blast supposedly had come from Oban itself, and a similar one had occurred near Earth. You’ll have to remember to thank Jordan, if you ever have the opportunity to speak to him again. You suspect that you haven’t heard the last of the new Avatar.   
           While your training, and therefore your exile, isn’t technically complete, the king insisted on a small celebration for your homecoming, after which your parents and their advisers would decide if you would stay in Dol or continue your education outside of the city. Part of you wished to return to the small oasis that you’d been calling home since you were six, because it meant you wouldn’t have to deal with the prying eyes and questions constantly coming your way from various members of the court. The other part of you wanted to remain with your parents. Learning more about Molly (perhaps Eva, now?) and her past had made you realize that you, too, longed to build a better relationship with your family. You’ve been apart for so long, would it even be possible?  
           You’ve taken to meditating under the pavilion in the garden. You didn’t realize how much you missed plants until Alwas and Oban, which both seemed so lush compared to the desert (and parts of Oban actually were, you suppose). Being back among the dense forests is comforting, and brings back memories of your childhood, before you had to worry about being a prince. The selfish part of you longs for those simpler times, and wishes you’d been able to have a childhood unburdened by your future responsibilities. The logical part of you recognizes that there’s no point in being angry about the things you cannot change. The part of you that is still a child wants to lock yourself in your quarters and not come out for a good, long time.  
           You groan and lean forward to press your forehead against the floor of the pavilion. Your circlet digs into your skin, reminding you even now of the expectations and duties looming over you. You rip it from your head and glare at it, wishing you could throw it into the stream that flows through the garden and have the current carry it and your responsibilities away from you. You’re so caught up in your silent tantrum that you don’t hear the footsteps until they’re right behind you.   
           “Prince Aikka,” your mother’s gentle voice makes you jump, and you scramble to put the crown back on your head. You hear her chuckle, and then she’s sinking down to kneel beside you. She looks… much older than she did when you last saw her; the communicator your father had used to reach you on Oban hadn’t shown all the grey hair and wrinkles both your parents had accumulated over the years. Still, there’s a striking dignity to your mother’s features. You may have your father’s lighter hair and eyes, but you have your mother’s proud cheekbones and angular jaw. You rub your chin absentmindedly, wondering when you’ll start growing a beard like your father’s.  
           “Something is troubling you,” the queen murmurs. She sets a small basket down in front of her. “I will listen, if you would like to talk.”  
           You stare out at the garden and sigh heavily. “Oban was… stressful,” you finally mumble. “I saw and experienced a great deal that will stay with me for a while.”  
           The queen nods. “I wish the Avatar had been more upfront and honest about the race’s purpose, though I suppose it could have brought out the worst in some contestants.” She turns her gaze on you, and there’s a hardness behind her dark eyes. “We never would have agreed to let you go if we’d known.”  
           You swallow, and think about how things could be so much different if you hadn’t gone. On one hand, Oban truly was the experience of a lifetime, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. But at the same time, if you  _ hadn’t  _ gone, would the Avatar be a Nourasian? Or even a Crog? Not to mention the things you saw and experienced in the Temple of the Heart. You shake your head, and remind yourself that there’s no point worrying about it now.  
           Your mother opens the basket and hands you a piece of sweetened flatbread. You study it carefully, and Nori says, “It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”  
           You take a bite, and sigh as memories of sneaking into the kitchens and stealing a couple of loaves when you thought the cooks weren’t looking come flooding back. “I thought you had forgotten.”  
           “You’re my son, Aikka.” She places a hand on your shoulder and smiles softly. “I would never forget.”  
           You feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a grin, and you take another bite. You sit quietly and eat with your mother, and think that maybe you can rebuild the relationship between you and your parents, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write about Molly and to a lesser extent Jordan a lot, so I feel like I may give people the impression that I don't like Aikka as much. The truth is, I love Aikka. I love him so much. I hate how under-developed his character is and that openness is both freeing and terrifying. On one hand, no one can really tell me I've got his character wrong because objectively, he doesn't have much of a character in the show. On the other hand, some of y'all are... weird about Aikka, and it makes me nervous to write about him. For example, I had someone vague in the fandom tag that my Aikka aesthetic blog was "wrong." (Similarly, that's why I tend to avoid interacting with ppl in this fandom as a rule, and why I hesitate to post more of what I've written.) But that's not the point of this! The point is that I really do love Aikka, and he is my son, and I wish I wrote about him more, but the fact that he comes from a different planet that has little development and I hate doing my own world building means that I tend to avoid writing about him. Maybe if they ever release these sequel/spin-off things they'll remedy that and I can go hog wild with the Aikka fics. I will say that I like the idea of Nourasia being some hodge-podge of like. South Asian and Middle Eastern cultures, if anyone was curious. I was thinking that Aikka and Nori were eating something like puran poli, which is a sweet flatbread eaten in various parts of India.


	16. Day 16- "This is gonna be so much fun"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, Jordan, and Aikka  
> No pairings  
> Wow, two Aikka-fics in a row! In which Aikka may be a prince, and concerned about acting princely, but he is still a kid and has some friends who are kind of a bad influence on him.

          With a golden blink of light, the two humans appear in the middle of the garden, where you have been pacing for the better part of an hour, worrying about all the things that could have gone wrong. Jordan sighs heavily, and Molly is chattering so quickly that even your translator is having a difficult time deciphering everything pouring out of her mouth.   
           “That was so cool!” she cries. “You can do that all the time? Is it always like that? How does it even work? I’m so jealous oh my god!”  
           Jordan pats her shoulder and says, “Molly, please, I’m so tired that my brain can’t process half of what you’re saying.”  
           “Glad to hear it’s not just me, then,” you chime.   
           Molly finally notices you and drops the bag slung over her shoulder so she can essentially throw herself at you. You grunt at the impact, and mutter, “Is this going to happen  _ every time _ I see you?”  
           “Mm, probably,” she replies against your shoulder. “Do you really have to live so far away?”  
           “I can’t really just drop everything and leave my people, as tempting as that sometimes is.” You hold her at arm's length and grin. “You’re taking care of yourself, I trust?”  
           She rolls her eyes. “Yes, mother.”  
           You look over her shoulder at Jordan, who is leaning heavily on his staff. “Are you alright?” you ask him.  
           “Just tired,” he says, waving you off. “I’m not used to teleporting so much in one day.”  
           “Let’s go inside,” you suggest. “You can sit down, and I can get us something to eat.”  
           “Oh, hell yeah.” Molly pumps her fist in the air. “I’m so excited to eat bugs!”  
           You gape at her in horror. “Who told you we eat bugs?”   
           “So you haven’t ever eaten a bug?”  
           “No!”  
           “Not even on a dare?”  
           You look at Jordan. “Is this a thing humans do?”   
           He just shrugs, “Sometimes, yeah.”  
           “Goddess help me,” you grumble.

* * *

As you walk up to your quarters, Molly says, “You know, this would be a good staircase for mattress surfing.”  
           Jordan laughs. “Imagine the scandalized looks on all the stuffy noble’s faces if the three of us came crashing down the stairs.”  
           “What is mattress surfing?” you ask.   
           And that’s how you find yourself standing at the top of the stairs after having dropped Molly’s things off in one of the guest bedrooms. She promptly swiped a mattress off one of the beds and dragged you after her. She sits down in the front and pats the space behind her. “Come on, Prince, I’ll go first so that if this goes terribly wrong, Nousasia doesn’t lose its only heir.”  
           “Maybe I should go first, then,” Jordan suggests. “I’m not immortal, exactly, but weird Avatar lifespan coupled with weird Avatar magic means I’m almost indestructible now.”  
           “Oh, yeah, and I’m the World President now.” Molly rolls her eyes. “I think you just want to be in the front because that’s the best place to be.”  
           “No, I’m saying, from a logical standpoint, I should go first, because I weigh the most and I’m the least likely to die from this.”  
           “Maybe we shouldn’t do this, if people are going to die,” you mumble. “Seems like unnecessary risks, to me.”  
           Molly and Jordan both frown at you, and you huff, “Well, I’m just saying.”  
           “Come on,” Jordan nudges you onto the mattress, and you sigh and take a seat behind Molly. She wraps her hands around your ankles and grins.   
           “This is going to be so much fun,” she whispers.   
           “Is this another thing humans do?” you ask, wrapping your arms around her waist as Jordan settles down behind you and mirrors your posture.  
           Molly shrugs. “I used to do it at the boarding school after everyone went home for the summer and there wasn’t anyone to yell at me. Never done it with multiple people on one mattress, so hopefully Jordan can teleport us or something if this goes horribly wrong.”  
           “I think if I use my powers one more time, I’ll die, but I’d sacrifice myself for both of you.”  
           “This is going to be a disaster,” you groan. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”  
           Molly starts pulling on the railings on either side of the staircase. “Here goes nothing!” she yells. “Look out below!”  
           There’s a moment where you regret everything, before your combined weight and gravity take over and the mattress starts to slide down the stairs, gaining speed. You bury your face between Molly’s shoulder blades as Jordan lets out a hearty “Yee-haw!” and Molly cackles.   
           At the bottom of the staircase, the mattress lands funny, and sends the three of you spilling across the freshly polished stone floors. Molly, being in the front, goes the farthest, and slides to a stop against the wall. She doesn’t immediately move, so you pick yourself up and rush over to her. “Molly, are you okay?”  
           She lifts her arms up in the air and lets out a whoop. “THAT WAS AWESOME!”  
           Jordan starts laughing, and you look at the two of them, sprawled out across the floor, as servants and a couple of nobles come to investigate all the noise, and you can’t help but join them in their giggling. “You two will be the death of me,” you say.  
           “You don’t sound too upset about that,” Jordan points out.  
           “It’ll be an exciting death, at least,” you reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole communication thing always confused me because, like. Are they all speaking some shared galactic tongue? Or are they using some sort of technology that lets them understand each other regardless of the language being spoken? Translator seems a little more practical (though I wouldn't be surprised if there was one or maybe a handful of widely-spoken mercantile languages that business-people and government officials use to converse with each other when doing inter-planetary business).   
> As for bug-eating, I'm unsure if Nourasians would eat them or not? They do ride them, and I think it's safe to assume that they might use them for other things (silk, for example), but not sure if they would eat them or not? I could go either way on that one, but for this, decided that they do not make a habit of eating bugs.


	17. Day 17- "I'll tell you, but you aren't going to like it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Don, Molly, Stan, and Koji  
> No pairings  
> Don is probably not super excited that his daughter wants to continue racing, but at the same time, trying to get her to stop would be like trying to stop a freight train. Wei's are a stubborn bunch, after all.

          You barge into the garage, startling the team of mechanics. You sweep your eyes over the room as you look for three specific people that you already know will not be here.   
           An older member of the crew that you recognize waves. “Well hey, Mr. Wei, what can we do for you?”  
           “I’m looking for Eva,” you reply curtly. “Where is she?”  
           The mechanic rubs the back of her neck. “Oh, Eva, um… Yeah, about that.”  
           You tap your foot impatiently. “Do you know where she is, or don’t you?”  
           “I do,” she sighs. “I’ll tell you, but you aren’t going to like it.”

* * *

          It’s a thirty minute drive to the track, but you make it in less than 20 and thank whatever powers may be that you didn’t run into any law enforcement. You barely wait for the car to come to a stop before you’re bolting to the course. The new star-racer is hovering over the gravel while the two mechanics complete their calibrations. You skid to a stop and cry, “Wait!”   
           Koji looks over his shoulder and freezes. Stan, on the other hand, looks more irritated than afraid, though he quickly schools his expression into something more neutral and asks, “What’s up?”  
           “Is Eva in there?” you ask, pointing to the star-racer.  
           The two exchange looks, and Koji finally nods. “Everything looks good, sir, it’s perfectly safe.”  
           “I need to talk to her.” You approach their makeshift command center. “Please, it’s important.”  
           Stan nods and hands you his headset. You pull it on and say, “Eva, please put the star-racer down.”  
           “Dad?” Her surprise is welcome over the anger you expected, but that reveals itself soon enough when she snaps, “Why, are you going to try to talk me out of this?”  
           “No, I promise. Please, just put the racer down.”  
           She doesn’t respond, but the craft slowly sinks back towards the ground and the drone from the engine drops off in pitch as it slows. The hatch pops, and your daughter slides out. “Well?” she demands.  
           You dig around in your coat pockets as you walk over, and hold out the old pair of goggles to her. “They’re your mother’s” you explain, as she takes them. “Not her favorite, obviously, but a backup pair. I thought you might like to have them. I think she’d like you to have them.”  
           Eva studies the goggles quietly. When she looks up at you, her eyes are glassy, and she wipes at them quickly and says, “I thought you were gonna try to stop me.”  
           “I thought about it,” you confess. “But I know there’s no stopping a Wei once they’ve made up their mind. And, well, if you’re serious about this professional racing thing,” you look down at your hands as you wring them, “I just wanted to tell you that Wei Race would be more than happy to sponsor you.”  
           Eva hugs you then, and you return the gesture and sigh heavily against the top of her head. “Thanks, Dad,” she murmurs.  
           You chuckle. “Don’t thank me yet, young lady. As your manager, I won’t go easy on you, and there will be consequences for thinking you could sneak off and test a new racer without notifying me first. What if something had happened?”  
           “Oh my god,” she groans. “We have it under control, Dad, everything’s fine. I haven’t even flown the darn thing yet.”  
           You take a step back. “Well, don’t let me delay things any longer.”  
           She glances down at the goggles one more time, before grinning at you and leaping up into the racer. You take a step back at the engines rev, and under the worry that something will go terribly wrong, you feel immense pride, and know that wherever Maya is, she can feel it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm finally figuring out how to make short, concise summaries, hell yeah!  
> Anyway, to be clear, Don is not giving Maya the goggles she was wearing when she crashed, because like. Those were probably beyond repair?? But I also imagine that Maya had a couple pairs that she would use, in case something happened to the ones she usually wore (not that Maya or Molly really use their goggles when they're racing, anyway! Just like no one wears helmets, but who needs safety, I guess!).


	18. Day 18- Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Flint and Marcel, Satis, Ceres, and Grooor (who has too many o's in his name, why does he need 3?!); should maybe also specify that this is from Molly's POV, and also Jordan and Aikka are mentioned  
> Pairings: None  
> This was mostly an excuse for me to figure out where Molly, Jordan, and Aikka live in RBAU, and also figure out what's going on with all the contestants from the race. Once again, everyone is human, because I didn't want to deal with space and world building in this au.

          You have a strange assortment of neighbors.  
           The first to introduce themselves to you are Flint and Marcel, who live in an apartment on the first floor. They make some dig at your lack of decorations, and explain to you that they have won every door decoration contest the apartment complex has held since they moved in. The fact that they seem to be the only ones competing does not seem to deter or discourage them, so just to ruffle their feathers, the three of you go all out for Halloween, with fake cobwebs, an army of tiny pumpkins painted as various dead musicians, and a skeleton that cackles every time someone walks by. Because you are the only ones living on the top floor, it doesn’t happen very often, which means the only time it goes off is when the three of you enter or exit the apartment. This also means you tend to forget it’s there, and scare yourselves shitless. Regardless, Flint and Marcel are pretty nice, and you can get some good, home-cooked pho from them if you bring them something in exchange. They’re particularly fond of the  haupia cakes and poi Jordan occasionally makes.  
           Satis is the elderly man who lives across from Flint and Marcel. The first time you met him, he was hobbling up the stairs with his walking stick, and when he went to shake your hand after introductions were made, you realized there was a little buzzer in his palm  _ after  _ it went off. He cackled so hard you thought he was going to fall back down the stairs. You’ve since learned that Satis is a prankster, and are always diligent to look for whoopie cushions hidden under the rugs on the stairs, or tape across the bottom of doorways. He always makes a lot of food for the holidays and shares with all the other tenants, and got really offended when you asked if there was anything hidden in it. The only thing Satis takes seriously, it seems, is food, which is almost sacred.  
           Next is Ceres. You didn’t think old people who complained about “kids these days” actually existed until you met Ceres. He finds out that you have a band, looks it up, and then shows up outside your door the next day with an old, wooden flute, which he proceeds to play for you very loudly and poorly after a drawn-out tirade about “the music of his people” being superior to the “drivel” you and your peers are making. And you have no doubt that the music of his people  _ is  _ very pleasant to listen to, and maybe he was a very successful flautist when he was much younger and his lungs were in better shape, but age hasn’t been kind to this particular man. The three of you listen very politely to all of it, and Jordan makes the mistake of saying, “That was very nice, Ceres,” because he appears outside your door every now and then and plays for you. He especially likes to come knocking early on weekend mornings, when you would much rather be asleep.   
           Finally, there’s Groor. Groor has a name other than Groor, but that’s all anyone calls him, and the reason for that is unclear to you. However, you’re too scared to ask. In fact, you’re too scared to talk to Groor in general. He’s a very large man who fought in some distant war, in which he lost his leg. He also smokes like a chimney, despite the landlord being very clear that this is a smoke-free apartment, but Groor doesn’t care. He didn’t lose his leg in the war and fight for the freedom of all Americans to be told he couldn’t smoke in his own goddamn apartment. He also doesn’t seem to be super fond of the three of you, because he glares at you every time he sees you, though admittedly, that could just be his face.   
           So, yeah. Your neighbors are Weird with a capital W, but you’re sure they all think you’re plenty odd too. At least no one can say that living here is boring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have anything to say about this, except that it was a lot of fun to write! I just love writing shenanigans. If anyone has any questions about any of the competitors and RBAU, feel free to leave a comment! Even if they don't play a huge role in the fic (which admittedly, most don't), I've still got thoughts on all of them and I'm always down to share!


	19. Day 19- Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, but Don, Rick, Nori, Lao, and the Wilde fam OCs are mentioned  
> Pairings: Molly/Jordan/Aikka is implied, I guess?  
> Some more RBAU, just Molly thinking about her family.

          Family is a complicated concept for you.   
           Maybe it's because your own is so messy. Your mother’s death isn't something you like to think about, and being away from your father for so long hasn't helped your relationship so much, so while he is back in your life, and knows who you are, there’s still a rift there that only time and work have any hope of healing. But growing up, there wasn’t really anyone you had to call “family,” just Madam Stern and the gaggle of kids at the group home.  
           Jordan’s family is big. His mother and father are both supportive of him and his sister, about everything. Jordan tells you one night about how his mom drove all over Texas to find him and his sister doctors that would agree to get them hormone blockers, and later start them on HRT. And then, of course, there’s everyone else. Your first Wilde family reunion at their resort in Hawai’i is… a culture shock, to say the least. Jordan tells you there’s easily 100 people there over the course of the week, though he really only spends time with his more immediate family. Becca has four siblings of her own, and they all have kids, and some of those kids have kids, so it’s still way bigger than any family you would have ever known (your parents were both only children, themselves). It’s organized chaos, but you do actually have a lot of fun while also feeling cheated out of a positive family experience of your own.  
           Even Aikka’s family situation is better than yours. Lao and Nori Bhattacharya, a politician and doctor respectively, have high expectations for their son, who only wants to make music and date his boyfriend in peace. It was a tense relationship for a while, the way Aikka tells it (it’s so hard to tell when he’s being 100 percent honest and when he’s over- or understating things), but his parents’ love for their son won out in the end. They may not completely understand everything Aikka is doing, but they recognize that he’s happier with you and Jordan.  
           So when you really think about it, your family experience growing up was, objectively, kind of terrible, and you’re not so sure how much better it’s gotten. Although, your father really is trying. And Rick has become a sort of mentor/father-figure to you. You’re not really sure when Becca started filling the role of a maternal figure, either, but she’s the closest approximation to a mom that you have. Even Nori, despite being so far away, tries to mother you, and keeps hounding Aikka to take you and Jordan to Bangladesh so she can treat you to a “girl’s day.” And of course, you have Jordan and Aikka, who you can always count on to have your back no matter what.  
           Maybe what you ought to say is that your family  _ is _ complicated and messy. But it’s larger than you thought. And it’s still good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, that was a trans Jordan headcanon, as well as a Hawaiian Jordan headcanon, because I will die on these hills. Also, gave Aikka and his family a last name, hell yeah (Bhattacharya is an aristocratic Bengali Brahmin title/surname, which is my way of acknowledging the "royalty" thing).  
> I'm gonna be honest, I tend to write about things I'm dealing with to process them and also write about things that I wish I had. This is maybe a little TMI and kind of personal, so feel free to skip lol.  
> My grandmother has discontinued treatment for cancer, so her health is very quickly declining and we're not sure how much time she has left. It's kind of tricky because I've never been very close to her, but I've been spending a lot of time with her in the hospital. That means a lot of these have been pretty rushed lately, and my motivation is not really there, but writing is a distraction for me (and if I can focus on happy family stuff then I don't have to deal with what's going on in my life haha!). So, sorry if the quality of these has gotten worse? Maybe I'll clean some of them up later, but for now I'm more interested in just. Getting them up, you know? Anyway. I'm not saying this because I want anyone's pity, and I'm not really one for "thoughts and prayers," but if you've been noticing that these seem rushed (or I stop posting new ones) that's probably why.


	20. Day 20- Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Molly, Jordan, and Aikka  
> Pairings: Molly/Jordan/Aikka  
> This was supposed to be funny and then it got really sappy until I finally settled on what it is now. Content warning for discussion of homophobia and criminalized homosexuality, I guess? Molly and Aikka discussing sexuality and English colloquialisms. Also cw for swearing (whoops sorry)

          “I mean it was frightening, I suppose. It's still illegal there, you know? Like, they  _ could  _ have thrown me in prison. I was probably going to have to leave no matter what happened.”  
           You reach up to pat Aikka’s cheek and frown at how bristly it is. “You need to shave,” you grunt.   
           He chuckles. The two of you are sprawled out on the floor in the living room, because that's where all important conversations happen. Jordan ran out to get breakfast because he's always the first awake and because it's just That Kind of day. So you and Aikka are talking about serious things in your pajamas and waiting for him to come home.  
           “It’s like, oh, what’s your expression,” he hums as he thinks, “Skeletons in the cabinet? Where you have a dark secret that would be ruinous if it got out?”   
           You snort. “Closet, but yeah.”  
           Aikka’s eyes light up. “Oh, even better. The gay skeleton in the closet.” You both laugh at that.   
           Jordan chooses then to return. He stands over you with the bagels from the bakery on the corner and raises an eyebrow. “Y'all doing okay?”   
           “We're just talking about Aikka’s gay skeletons,” you explain.   
           “I am the gay skeleton, it is me,” he adds. “And I am hungry. Bagel me.”   
           Jordan digs around in the bag. “You want cinnamon raisin or blueberry? The plain cinnamon’s for Molly.”   
           “Oh hell yeah, you do love me!” you crow.   
           “I'll take a blueberry bagel,” Aikka says. Jordan drops it on his face, though Aikka manages to knock it out of the way. He glares up at Jordan. “I'm not wearing my glasses, you jerk.”   
           Jordan shrugs and bites into his own bagel. “Not my fault your vision is shit.”  
          “Fuck mother,” Aikka grumbles.   
           “It's ‘motherfucker,’” you correct.   
           Aikka scoffs. “I know what I said.”   
           Jordan lowers himself so he can sit cross-legged next to you and asks Aikka, “So what's this about gay skeletons?”   
           Aikka shrugs. “We were just talking about how being gay is still illegal in Bangladesh.”  
           “Ah.” You eat in silence for a few moments before Jordan says, “If it means anything to you, we're happy you're here. Right, Molly?”   
           “You're alright,” you say around a mouthful of bagel. “I can tolerate you.”   
           “Where would I ever be without your good will?” Aikka drawls. You all fall quiet again, and then Aikka sniffles, and you and Jordan both jerk your heads up to look at him. “I’m just glad that I met you two, I guess,” he mumbles.   
           You and Jordan scootch across the floor to squish Aikka in the middle of a hug sandwich. “We’re glad we met you too,” Jordan murmurs, planting a kiss on Aikka’s temple.   
           You offer him a gentle smile and say, “Your gay skeleton is safe with us.”  
           Aikka laughs. “Good. I’m glad I can trust you with my skeleton, and everything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this was completely inspired by an "in the closet" joke.  
> Fun fact I didn't actually know that "sodomy" is illegal in Bangladesh when I decided to make Aikka a gay Bangladeshi man, but I looked it up and sure enough. I've got stuff written about this but I'll just go ahead and say that, while Lao and Nori may not completely understand their son's attraction to men, they do support him (and also they love Molly and Jordan).


	21. Day 21- "Impressive, truly"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Don and Maya  
> No pairings (YET!)  
> Here's some thoughts on how Don and Maya met in canon, because I don't write Maya enough.  
> Also, just a head's up, I'll be visiting a friend in another state for most of this week, so I'm not sure how much I'll be writing and I won't be home until Oct. 29. If I do manage to keep up with these, I'll try to post on the 28, but I'm not gonna make any promises. This is the last prompt for week 3!

          You walk into the hangar, clutching your briefcase tightly and trying to not pull at your tie, which feels suffocatingly tight around your throat. The crew ignores you, for the most part, as you walk towards the young woman with pastel pink hair. She’s having a very animated phone conversation in some dialect you’re struggling to understand, though admittedly, your Mandarin is rather rusty. You hang back and wait for her to hang up before approaching her.   
           When she does finally end the call, she gives you a skeptical look. “Let me guess,” she says, “They sent some other suit to try to be my manager, yes?”  
           You nod, and extend your hand. “Yes, my name is Don--”  
          She scoffs. “Go back to the hole you crawled out of, I don’t need a fucking manager.”  
           “Miss Zhou, please--”  
           She walks away, and you instinctively go after her. “I don’t need some man who thinks he knows shit about racing telling me how to do my damn job!” she yells. “I’ve been studying racing since before I could even read! I’ve been flying since before I could drive a car! I  _ know  _ what I’m doing, and I absolutely  _ do not _ need your help!”  
           You rush ahead to get in front of her and cut her off. “Please, Miss Zhou, I understand your frustration, but I think you misunderstand why I am here!” you cry. “I am simply here to handle the  _ administrative  _ side of things, so that you may focus on racing!”  
           She places a hand on her hip and huffs. “Okay, first of all, please stop calling me Miss Zhou. You can just call me Maya. Secondly, the last three said that too, but they all tried to coach me. Why should I believe you’ll be any different?”  
           You straighten up a little bit more and say, “Because, I’ve been following your career. It’s impressive, truly, and I have no doubt that you are a fully capable pilot. All I ask for is a chance.”  
           “Huh.” She taps her foot on the floor and studies you. Finally, she asks, “What did you say your name was, again?”  
           “Don Wei.”  
           She sighs, “Alright, Don. Let’s see how this goes, then.” She jabs her finger at your chest. “But if you try to coach me, I’ll run you out of here myself, is that clear?”  
           “Crystal,” you reply with a nervous grin. Seemingly satisfied, she nods and walks away, and you let out the breath you were holding and let yourself deflate. You have a feeling this Maya won’t make your job easy, but you always did love a challenge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah hey a family name for Maya, wow! (Gonna be honest, my ex came up with that one, as well as most of my headcanons for Rick, Don, and Maya, but I'm keeping them and she can kiss my butt.)  
> This was another really difficult prompt. A lot of that was because today was a very difficult day (visit to gma was. Rough). So this is rushed and sloppy but I'm just glad that I managed to write something, honestly.  
> If I can rant a little, do the writers know how racing teams work? Granted, my knowledge of them is limited to a very quick google search, but like. Don is referred to as a race manager, but that would mean that there is someone else who owns Wei Racing. But it's called Wei Racing, which implies that Don is the owner, not just the manager. So are they using "manager" as like. The person who is in charge? Or does he only manage the race team and work under some unknown owner who is also a Wei? I am probably overthinking this but I'm also trying to figure out what exactly Don is doing, like what is his role? What's his job description? The world may never know.


	22. Day 22- "I know how you love to play games"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly, Jordan, Aikka, Para-dice, Canaletto  
> Pairings- None  
> This is like, the very end of the Skyrim/Dawnguard au lol. I feel weird posting how it ends without the lead-up to it but 1) I will probably never post this in its entirety ever and 2) even if I did, if you've played the game, you probably can guess how it ends, and it's all about the journey, not the destination! Uh, content warning for death and some violence, I guess.

          Canaletto is waiting in the cathedral. His back is to you when you burst into the room, and Aikka takes aim but you hold out your hand to stop him.   
           “I wondered when this day would come,” Canaletto says. “When my own daughter would turn on me.”  
           “You are not my father,” you growl.   
           He sighs. “Did I not raise you? Clothe you and put a roof over your head? I have gifted you with power and immortality, but it was never enough for you, was it? Such an ungrateful child.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head. “I can't even blame it on your new friends. You've always had a rebellious streak. I should have done more to squash it, apparently.”   
           He finally turns to face you. “I know how you love to play games, Molly, but this has gone on long enough. I will give you one more chance: give me the bow and come quietly, and this will all be forgotten. I will allow your companions to leave unharmed.”  
           “I won't,” you reply. “What you're trying to do will mean the end for everyone, even vampires.”   
           “So this is how it ends. So be it.”   
           It's not what you would call a battle by any means. Canaletto may be a powerful pure blooded vampire, but he's outnumbered, and you have Auriel’s bow. Aikka’s aim is nearly perfect, and a few arrows weaken the elder vampire significantly, while Paradice and Jordan keep him from going after either you or Aikka. You mostly use your restorative magic to keep your friends safe, though you do fire off the occasional ice spell.   
           In a last-ditch effort, Canaletto summons a gargoyle, and it swings a stony arm at Jordan, knocking him off his feet. You race to his side as Canaletto swoops down, and in a moment of panic, you pick up Jordan’s great sword and hold it out in front of you, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.   
           The impact jars you. You open one eye a crack, and come face to face with a very angry vampire lord. He groans, and reaches a hand up to fumble at your throat. You twist the blade, drawing another groan out of him, and he finally falls to his knees and dissolves into ash.   
           You stand over the remains and struggle to catch your breath in the silence that follows. Finally, Jordan climbs to his feet and places his hand on your shoulder. You quietly return his sword to him, which he places in the scabbard across his back. “You okay?” he asks lowly.  
           You take a deep breath and close your eyes tightly. “I will be. I think I need a moment alone, if that’s alright.”  
           He nods, and then you hear him, Aikka, and Paradice leave. You lower yourself to crouch in front of the still-smoking ashes, and sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing fighting scenes, so much. Choreographing everything and describing the action without being repetitive is. Hard. Also, sorry the ending is so... not great lol.


	23. Day 23-"This is not new, it only feels like it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly and Rick  
> Pairings- None  
> Post-canon woot woot! Content warning for discussion of past trauma (related to Maya's crash)

          Molly hardly looks up when you let yourself into her workshop. Picking your way through the piles of scrap and tools strewn about proves to be more hazardous than you thought, and you wonder how she gets around in here with legs that are easily half as long as yours. Maybe she’s memorized some path through the maze of metal plating, wires, and wrenches that you’ve failed to notice. Maybe she just never leaves.  
           “What’s up, Little Mouse?” you ask as you set the plate of enchiladas somewhere you don’t think it’ll get knocked over. Enough dishes have met their untimely end in a moment of inspiration, and Don has toyed with the idea of serving his daughter exclusively on plastic or paper plates. You think he’s being ridiculous.   
           The young woman drags her hands down her face and glares at the blueprints in front of her. “I can’t focus.”  
          “Why not?” You glance at the plans, and the familiarity of the design catches your attention, so you really look. They appear to be for Maya’s star-racer. You sigh. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”  
           “Doing what to myself?”  
           “Dwelling on things you can’t control.” When her nose scrunches the way it does when she’s about to start yelling, you hold up your hands and say, “You said it yourself, Canaletto caused your mother’s crash. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”  
           She visibly deflates, and mutters, “I know. But I keep hoping.”  
           “For what?”  
           “I don’t know.” She leans back in her chair and kicks at a bolt near her foot. It skitters across the floor and lands with a  _ tink _ near an empty oil drum she’s turned into a table, judging by the tool boxes stacked on top of it. “I guess I keep hoping that I’ll get a chance to do it all over again, you know? Stop her from racing, or ask the crew to check everything again. It sucks that I can’t.”  
           You lean against the desk and shake your head. “Past is in the past, kid. Only thing you can do is keep moving forward.”  
           “I know. It’s just…” She pushes a hand through her hair, then gathers it up and pulls it back into a ponytail. She keeps saying she’s going to get it cut but hasn’t yet, so you keep making jokes that she should grow it out as long as yours. “This isn’t new, but it feels like it.”  
           “Can you explain?” you ask.  
           She gnaws on her lip, and then says, “Every time I think back to the crash, it feels like I’m there, like it’s happening all over again, and I’m experiencing the confusion and fear again. But I’m older, and I understand what happened now, so there’s pain and anger too. And it sucks, because every time I think I’m over it, my dumb brain has to dredge it all up and remind me that, no, actually, you aren’t, and you probably never will be, and while we’re on the topic of witnessing your mother’s violent death, let’s also think about how your father left you in a terrible boarding school for ten years without trying to contact you even once, because you weren’t already sad enough.” She folds forward and rests her forehead against the table. “I hate this. I just want to be okay. I want to be over this.”  
           You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I get it. I know you don’t want to think about this, but maybe this isn’t something that’s gonna go away. Maybe it’s something you just have to carry with you for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it alone, you know?” You look down at her, and realize she’s lifted her head so that she can watch you. You give her a small grin and say, “You’ve got people looking out for you, Molly. You’ve got people who care about you, and want to help you. Don’t forget that.”  
           She laughs. “Well, it’s really hard to forget when those people are six-foot-something and hang over you like a dead goose all the time.” Her expression softens, and her smile is genuine when she says, “Thanks, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it until the day I die, I fucking love found families and Rick and Molly's (familial) relationship.


	24. Day 24- Costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly and Jordan  
> Pairing- Molly/Jordan (though it's not super shippy, aside from the whole stealing each others' clothes thing)  
> Some more RBAU for your enjoyment, featuring Molly stealing Jordan's clothes because she'd be That Person in the relationship (she just likes being cozy in her bf's large sweaters. Aikka probably does it too).

          “I’m gonna steal all your clothes,” Molly says, pulling on one of your old hoodies.   
           You roll your eyes. “I think they’ll be too big on you, but be my guest.”   
           You’re finally going through all your stuff that you left at your parent’s house, not because they’re making you or anything, but because you feel obligated to do so. Plus, you’ll never wear half of this stuff again, since most of it doesn’t fit you anymore, anyway. Molly came along because 1) she loves your parents and they love her and 2) she likes stealing your clothes, so you’re hoping to dissuade her from taking the things you do wear by providing her with things you no longer wear. Maybe you’re hoping for too much, but it doesn’t hurt to try.   
           Molly is digging through a cardboard box when she suddenly snatches something out of it and runs across the hall to the bathroom. “Are you okay?” you call.  
           “I’m fine!” she giggles. “Just give me a minute!”  
           You shake your head, but go back to your sorting until a pair of hands covers your eyes. “Guess who?”  
          “Molly, quit being weird.”  
           She giggles. “Nope, try again.”  
           You groan and lean your head back, and burst out laughing when you find that she’s squeezed into your old Stitch costume. “Why?”  
           “That’s what I want to know. Why do you have this?”  
           “My sister was obsessed with  _ Lilo and Stitch _ , so for Halloween, she wanted to be Lilo. I got roped into being Stitch, and my mom helped sew this for me. I was, I don’t know, ten, I think? I forgot that I still had it, to be honest. But why are you wearing it?”  
           She shrugs. “I don’t know, I saw it and thought, ‘I’m gonna squeeze into that,’ and I did.”  
           “So you’re good now?”  
“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get out of this. I may just be Stitch now.”  
           “Well that’s a bummer, I don’t really want to be dating Stitch.”  
           She sticks her tongue out at you, and says, “But seriously, I need help getting out of this.”  
           “I’ll help as soon as we show my mom and Lani.”  
           “Ugh, okay, fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this headcanon that Jordan and the Wilde fam love the movie Lilo and Stitch bc 1) family and 2) Hawaii, which are inherently linked because most of Wilde fam lives in Hawaii. Also imagining six-year-old Lani dragging ten-year-old Jordan trick-or-treating with her makes me happy (though Jordan would be the Best Big Brother and totally agree to go trick-or-treating with his little sister, even if his friends all think it's super lame).  
> Also, I wrote this chapter (and most after this until the end of the month) while visiting my friend and after my gma had passed away, so sorry if the quality went down a lot. I wasn't super motivated to do a lot of writing and I got way more behind on these than I wanted to, so I rushed through most of them in an attempt to keep up. I'd go back and fix some of them but I honestly don't even know where to start. These aren't supposed to be big, finished things anyway, just little drabbles to keep me writing. I still welcome comments, either about the things you really like or the things you think could have been better!


	25. Day 25- Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characers- Don and Maya  
> Pairing-None (yet)  
> Here's some early Don and Maya stuff, before they really started dating.

          Don is waiting in the hangar when you pull in after your practice run. You climb out at throw him a salute. “How was that?”  
          He pulls on his tie and says, “Good, good.”  
          “You look nervous.”  
          “Ah, yes, well,” he shifts his weight and swallows hard. “It occurred to me that we don't… know each other all that much?”  
          You raise an eyebrow and ask, “Is that a problem?”  
          “Well, it just seems that, if we're going to be working together like this, perhaps we should be more familiar.”  
          “Are you asking me out, Mr. Wei?”  
          He splutters and goes very red in the face. “No! Not like that! I just meant--!”  
          You can't help it; you laugh, because for all of his business smarts and ability to communicate with others, Don Wei is one of the most awkward people you have met. His face twists up like he licked a lemon, and you try to control yourself enough to choke out, “I know what you meant, I was pulling your leg!”  
          He huffs and crosses his arms. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine, you could just say that.”  
          “No, no, it’s fine! I’d be okay with that.” You wink, and add, “I like movies.”  
          “Movies?” He blinks, and then straightens up with the realization of what you’ve said and nods. “Movies, of course. Which would you like to see?”  
          You flip your hair over your shoulder and shrug. “I think some new action movie came out last week, if you like explosions? Otherwise, I’m always down for scary movies or rom-coms. We could go Friday, after work?”  
          “Uh, yeah, that sounds good.”  
          “Great!” you grin and pat him on the shoulder as you walk by him to go change out of your racing suit. “I’ll see you then!” Once you’re out of sight, you chuckle. You don’t know how Don manages to talk to the racing bigwigs and not lose his cool, and still struggle to talk to others in casual settings, but darn if it doesn’t somehow endear itself to you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to write more about these two to flush out their characters more, especially Maya, since we don't see a lot of her and she is both life goals and wife goals. It's just hard to write about someone who is, you know, dead. It'll probably happen one day, but not any time soon, since I still have to update Coping (sorry if you're waiting on that, hopefully I can get a chapter or two out in November??) I personally think Maya is more of the "go-getter" in the relationship, while Don is a small, awkward, bisexual man who struggles with talking to attractive people unless some amount of alcohol is involved. Same, Don. Same.  
> Should also maybe clarify that I don't think Maya started dating Don because she pitied him? Like I think there's a lot of mutual respect and trust between them and they became close friends before doing the dating thing because my love of friends to lovers is second to my love of found family.


	26. Day 26- Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly, Jordan, Aikka  
> Pairing- Molly/Jordan/Aikka (Morka? that sounds disgusting)  
> Have some more rbau. Molly and Aikka join Jordan during his work-out routine and Molly is considerably less "in shape" than the boys are, but Aikka proves to be a Bendy Boi.

          “I can’t feel my legs!” Molly wails.  
           “You’re the one who wanted to get swole together!” Jordan replies in a similar tone.  
           You shake your head as they continue to argue. Molly, after realizing how “fragile the human condition is,” decided she wanted to work out with Jordan so she could “suplex a would-be attacker,” and you’re tagging along because you’ve gone a little soft since moving to America and also, because you expected that Molly would pull something like this. You roll your eyes as you spread your legs and lean forward to press your forehead against the floor.  
           “Aikka, what the hell?”  
           You look up and notice that both Jordan and Molly are watching you with expressions of horror. You raise an eyebrow and ask, “What’s wrong?”  
           Jordan points at your legs and says, “How are you not dying?”  
           “I don’t understand?”  
          “I hurt just looking at you.”  
           “What, this?” you push yourself forward into the splits, and Jordan cringes.  
           “Oh God, please stop, it hurts.”  
           “It really doesn’t, Jordan.”  
           Molly cackles, and says, “Does it really bother you that much?”  
          “People shouldn’t be able to bend like that, Molly!”  
          “Well, apparently they can?”  
           “Well I hate it!”  
           You roll your eyes. “Maybe you should work on your flexibility.”  
           Jordan shudders. “I think I’ll leave that to you, if that’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jordan would totally use all the meme slang like "swole" and "yeet." Jordan would love memes in general. Also, I like the idea of Molly working out and getting Buff.  
> This is very short and has no plot, I am sorry. It's just a bit of dialogue I've wanted to write for a while now.


	27. Day 27- Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly, though others are mentioned  
> Pairings- None (though you can just assume all RBAU has some molly/jordan/aikka in it)  
> Molly reflects on touring

          One of your favorite parts of being A Real Band is touring. Sure, it’s a logistical nightmare sometimes, you’ve stayed in some pretty sketchy hotels, and being cooped up in a van for those 10 hour (or longer) car rides absolutely sucks, but you love being able to share your music with a live audience, and also get to travel. You haven’t done a lot of that in your life, what with being stuck in the group home for 10 years.   
           The mountains are the best, of course. The twisty, turny roads make Jordan nauseous, but you like to stare out the window at where the peaks disappear from view. You’ve never been big on religion, but it makes you feel a little closer to… something bigger than yourself.   
           Though, there’s something to be said for the rolling plains of the Midwest too, but you prefer to fly over those because 1) they’re boring as hell to drive through and 2) when you’re high enough up, the ground looks like one big quilt, with the occasional river or road threading its way between it all, and you think about the earth wrapping you up in that big blanket of everything-ness, and you imagine it would feel comforting, being at the middle of it all, connected to everyone else. At least, you hope it would be comforting, and not suffocating, which is what it would more than likely be. But you like to think that it would be comforting, and since you’ll probably never experience it firsthand, there’s nothing to prove you wrong. Earth blanket would be comforting, end of story.   
           There’s a lot of talking that happens too. Real Talk. One of your favorite memories is driving through the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma late at night, with Rick in the passenger seat as he tries to teach you how to drive, and everyone else is asleep, and you just talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. You don’t feel weird for rambling about how everything in the world is all connected, and your atoms have been recycled and will be recycled until the end of everything, because you could probably tell Rick you killed a man and he would nod and say, “Need help burying the body?” and life would go on like it always does. You like that about Rick, the constancy and acceptance. It’s a nice change of pace from the men you’re used to putting up with.  
           But you especially love having time to explore. Jordan drags you to all the touristy places so he can find postcards to send home, because Lani gets mad when he doesn’t. And of course you have to take ironic touristy pictures, because what’s the point of going to all these well-known places if you  _ aren’t  _ going to take dumb photos at them? Your followers on social media websites eat that up. Except sometimes the line between “ironic” and “unironic” gets a little blurry, and you have some genuinely nice pictures of the three of you that you print off and keep hidden in a box under your bed back home.  
           Which is the best part of travelling, the fact that you have a home to return to, and you always get to bring a little bit of it with you. No matter where you go, you have your family with you, and you might drive each other nuts sometimes but at the end of the day, you know they’ll always be there for you. It’s a pretty phenomenal feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would describe my preferred writing style as stream-of-consciousness-esque, if anyone was wondering.  
> This was 100% inspired by my 8-hour drive through the Midwest as I went to visit my friend and then drive home (for another 8 hours, woo-hoo). As much as I love the Midwest, driving though Iowa is really fucking long and boring. Fuck Iowa and all its corn and soybeans.


	28. Day 28- Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Rick and Molly  
> Pairings- None  
> Rick probably does most of the grocery shopping and Molly probably tries to be "helpful."

          “You know everyone is staring, right?”  
           You scoff. “They’re staring because Rick frickin’ Thunderbolt is in Whole Foods, not because he’s pushing some punk around in a shopping cart.”  
           “I think that might actually have something to do with it, kid.”  
           “Like, the  _ tiniest  _ amount. It’s an afterthought. They’re too busy being all, ‘Oh my god Rick Thunderbolt’ to realize that there’s a young adult in the shopping cart.”  
           “Sure they are.”  
          You kick your feet over the side of the cart as Rick ponders which produce to purchase. You’ve tried to help in the past, but every time you present a fruit or vegetable for his inspection, he turns his nose up at it and tells you to put it back. You’ve given up on trying to understand what his criteria are; Rick just has an innate sense for which foods are the best, and you’re willing to put your life in his hands in that regard. That doesn’t mean you haven’t stopped trying to learn.   
           “What’s wrong with that orange?” you ask, as he places the fruit in question back with the others. “It looks fine.”  
           “It’s too soft.”  
          “Can I feel?”  
          He hands it to you, and you give it a little squeeze. “I mean, it’s kind of squishy,” you agree. “You’re just gonna juice it anyway, right? What’s it matter, if it’s a little soft?”  
           “Nah, this one’s better,” he says, and places it in the cart. “Don’t sit on it.”  
           “I’m gonna sit on everything now, just because you asked me not to.”  
          He sighs. “Of course you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would Rick shop at Whole Foods? Maybe not. I've never been, so I can neither confirm nor deny this. But I know there are Whole Foods in California, which is more what I was concerned with (since Rick would probably never shop at the grocery stores that only exist in my state).


	29. Day 29- "At least it can't get any worse"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly, Madam Stern  
> Pairings- None  
> Woah, pre-canon stuff! Molly (Eva, I guess), running away from the boarding school and then being dragged right back.

          Your first ride in the back of a cop car is because Madam Stern reported that you had run off. You thought surely the hag would like for you to just up and disappear, but apparently you were wrong. The officer marches you up to the front doors while the rest of your classmates watch with their faces pressed to the windows, so you hold your chin high to show off the thick line and star on your cheeks. They already talk about you when they think you aren’t listening. Let them talk.  
          You were not wrong about how Madam Stern would react to _those_ , at least.  
          “You are a _minor!_ ” she screeches, once you’re in her office. “Who on God’s green earth agreed to tattoo a _minor?!”  
          _You shrug. “I’m not gonna snitch.”  
          The officer shakes her head. “Eva, this is illegal,” she explains patiently. “We have these laws to protect kids like you.”  
          “Well, I wanted them. I paid for it and everything, it’s fine.”  
          It is not fine. Madam Stern gives you lines and puts you on bathroom duty for a week. You write, “ _I will not be a delinquent_ ” on the board ninety-nine times, and the last time you make sure that the teacher who is supposed to be supervising you is actually asleep before writing “ _I am the queen of delinquency_ ” and scrambling out of the room before they wake up. You wish all you had to do was lines.  
          “At least it can’t get any worse,” Lee says over dinner. Lee is an upperclassman, and he’s pretty chill. He’s one of the few students who still talks to you, because try as you might, you can’t scare him off. Not that you really want to. You like having at least one person to talk to.  
          “It could totally get worse,” you argue. “She could have killed me.”  
          “I mean, legally? No she couldn’t. Also, it would completely ruin the reputation of the school and no one would want to send their kids here. She can’t kill you.”  
          You huff. “What if she made me hold buckets of water for like, five minutes, and then made me scrub all the toilets? My arms already hurt as it is. Do you know how nasty those toilets were? I scrubbed them so hard and they’re _still_ gross. What do the custodians even do all day?”  
          “They are all pretty old. Maybe they just can’t see how bad they are? And if you want to spend all your time thinking about how it _could_ be worse, maybe you should count your blessings and be grateful that it isn't.”   
          “Oh, look, an optimist,” you grumble. “You're not the one scrubbing toilets.”   
          Lee grins. “You could have to scrub the __guys restroom.”  
          “Okay, it could be a lot worse,” you agree with a shudder. “I'll take lines and the women’s restroom, thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would Madam Stern make students scrub the toilets as punishment? Who knows! For the sake of this fic, she does.   
> Also, since none of the other students were given names, Lee is the super generic one I picked for the kid who tells Eva she has a package in the first episode. Kid's gotta have some friends, right?


	30. Day 30- "Do we really have to do this again?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly and Don  
> Pairings- None (ew?)  
> This is based on something else I have written up for Coping, so maybe slight spoilers for that but like, if you didn't see this coming, idk what to tell you? Don and Molly argue over Molly's future.

          “Ugh, do we really have to do this again?”   
           “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
           Eva rolls her eyes and says, “I already told you, the Earth Coalition can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, I’m not interested in being an ambassador.”  
           “Why not? The benefits are great, and you’d get to travel all over the galaxy. Isn’t that what you want?” you ask.  
           “No, Dad, it isn’t! I want to race!” She stomps her foot on the ground for emphasis. “If they want to send me to other planets to do that, sure, fine, but I’m not going to do their dirty work of trying to take control of other civilizations, and that’s that.”  
           You sigh. “I don’t think that’s what they’re planning on doing.”  
           “Yeah, because humanity has such a great track record with  _ not  _ colonizing other nations,” she snaps. “They just want to use my connections with Aikka to soften him up so we can go in there and take all of Nourasia’s resources for ourselves. I’m not going to betray my friend like that.”  
           “Or, you could use your connections to make sure Aikka doesn’t agree to a treaty that would sign away Nourasia’s resources,” you reason. “Assuming that the Earth Coalition would even try to do something like that.” When Eva doesn’t say anything, you add, “You don’t have to decide now, but I don’t think you should turn down the offer just because of your own lack of trust in the government.”  
           She rolls her eyes and grumbles, “Don’t get your hopes up.”  
          You both sit there quietly, caught up in your own thoughts, until you say, “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for knowing what you want and sticking to it.”  
           Eva looks caught off guard, and swallows before murmuring, “Thanks, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do want them to be a happy family. They just... have a long ways to go before that can happen.  
> Also maybe this is just me projecting but you can't tell me that, after everything they went through, Molly and co. don't have a deep-seated mistrust in a government that was alright with endangering civilians for a power they wanted to exploit for themselves...


	31. Day 31- Get spooky, losers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters- Molly, Rick, and Don  
> Pairings- None (unless you wanna count Rick and Don but like, this isn't very shippy, just them being dads)  
> HEY I GOT TO THE END WOOT WOOT! Molly is still a child and deserves to have some fun!

          Molly comes barreling into the living room with a pointy hat on her head. She throws a pillowcase into your hands and shouts, “Get spooky, losers! We’re going trick-or-treating!”  
          Don frowns, and asks, “Aren’t you a little old for that?”  
          “So?” she demands, as she places her hands on her hips. “I’m only sixteen, and I haven’t been trick-or-treating since, I don’t know, I was four, probably. I want the full Halloween experience.”   
          You shrug. “Sure, let’s go. I don’t have a costume, though.”  
          Molly hums and examines you. “You could put your hair over your face and be Cousin Itt.”  
          “I’m pretty sure Cousin Itt is blond.”  
          “Cousin Itt decided it was time for a change,” she shrugs. Then her eyes light up, and she turns to Don and shouts, “You can be Gomez! I wonder if I have a black dress so I could be Wednesday?” She turns and bolts back up the stairs.  
          Don blinks a couple of times before asking, “Are we really doing this?”  
          “Why not? She seems to be happy about it,” you reply.  
          He sighs. “Guess I’ll go change into a suit.”  
          You snort. “Oh no, Don has an excuse to wear a suit, whatever will he do?”  
          “I don’t need your sass, Rick.”  
          Molly tromps back down the stairs with a black dress and white knee-highs. Her hair’s a little too short to put into braids, but she tried. “Not bad for a spur of the moment costume,” you remark.  
          “Thanks!”she chirps. “Where’s Dad? I was gonna try to draw a better mustache on him.”  
          “What’s wrong with mine?” he cries from upstairs.  
          “It’s not thick enough!”  
          “My mustache is just fine, thank you very much!”  
          You chortle. “Don, your mustache isn’t Gomez-y enough.”  
          “Oh, so you’re against me too, huh?” He finally steps out of his room, adjusting his tie as he comes down the stairs. Molly whips out some black eyeliner and waggles her eyebrows, and Don looks between you and her before sighing and resigning himself to his fate. “Very well then, if you absolutely must.”  
          You give up on being Cousin Itt pretty quickly, since it’s too dark for you to see with your sunglasses on, not that you can see a whole lot with your hair in your face anyway. You do have a kid rush by you and shout, “I like your Rick Thunderbolt costume!” which makes the three of you look at each other and laugh until you’re in stitches. You and Don hang back and watch Molly run from house to house, and it fills you with something you can’t quite identify, but it’s a good feeling. A happy feeling. This is the sort of thing sixteen-year-olds should be doing, instead of participating in dangerous races on faraway planets, almost dying, and losing their best friends.   
          After hitting up every house in the neighborhood, you all go back home. Molly dumps all her candy out on the floor and starts to sort it into piles.   
          “What’d you get?” you ask.  
          “A popcorn ball,” she holds it up for your inspection. “And a bunch of suckers. Why do people always pass out suckers? They cut up your mouth.”  
          “I don’t know, kid, people like suckers.”  
          She shrugs. “They’re alright. Not as good as chocolate bars.” She grabs a king-size Hershey’s bar and grins. “I’m gonna eat so much candy tonight.”  
          “Do not!” Don yells from the kitchen. He walks out with three steaming mugs and places them on the coffee table. “You have school tomorrow, you do not need to get sick on candy and not be able to sleep tonight.”  
          “You’re no fun!” Molly takes a mug and peers inside it. “Is this cider?”  
          Don nods. “It’s a fall necessity. Plus, it was a little chilly out there, I thought you might like something to help warm you up.”  
          “Thanks, Dad!” she grins, and then takes a sip. “Ow, hot!” she hisses.  
          “It is hot cider,” you drawl. “Would make sense that it’s hot.”  
          She throws you a dirty look before opening the popcorn ball and taking a huge bite out of it. “Oh, it’s kettle corn!” she crows. “Hell yeah!”  
          “Language,” Don chides.   
          “Heck yeah!”  
          “Thank you.”  
          Molly goes to get ready for bed shortly after finishing her cider, but she does pop back into the kitchen where you and Don are chatting to say, “Thanks for going trick-or-treating with me.”  
          “It’s no problem, Little Mouse, it was fun,” you reply.   
          Don nods. “It’s… been a long time since I’ve done anything like that. Thank you for taking us with you.”  
          Molly gives both of you quick hugs before disappearing back up the stairs. You catch Don smiling after her, and contemplate making some smart-ass comment before deciding to let him have this moment. You know they have a long ways to go to mend their relationship, but maybe, just maybe, it’s not as out of reach as you thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the Addams family still be relevant in 2080? Who knows! I just wanted to write some cute family bonding and Halloween fun!  
> So this is the end! Hope you liked it! Feel free to tell me what you liked, or what you think I could have done better (I'm getting kind of fed-up with my writing and think it's kinda stale and repetitive so if you have suggestions for what I could do differently, I'd love to hear them!). Now it's time to work on more Coping!


End file.
